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MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


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“ SHE MOVED THE LITTLE WET HANDKERCHIEF JUST 
ENOUGH TO STEAL A TIMID GLANCE AT HIM.” 

{See page 206) 


MARIGOLD’S 

WINTER 


By EDITH FRANCIS FOSTER 

n 

Author of “ Mary ’n’ Mary,” “ Marigold,” “ Jimmy Crow,” etc. 


ILLUSTRATED BY THE AUTHOR 



BOSTON s0 DANA ESTES & 
COMPANY ^ PUBLISHERS 



lIGHARY ot CuiS.iriESi^ 
IwoOooies 

JUN 30 lyoa 

'joijyi entry 

So ^ s 

QLAi>^ A AACi Nu* 

i '2./0 f 

I OOH'f ct. 


Copyright., igo8 

By Dana Estes & Company 

All rights reserved 


marigold’s winter 



COLONIAL PRESS 

ElectrotyPed and Printed by C, H . Simonds <5r* Co. 
Boston, U. S. A. 







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f /"'• '’i.i ’ ' "■•( ■?' , 







CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I. 

Why Not Let’s Skate? 





PAGE 

11 

II. 

Up Darling River 



• 


25 

III. 

Going Skating . 



• 


40 

IV. 

Mrs. Pepperell’s Tea 



• 


54 

V. 

Grampavance and Demosthenes 



69 

VI. 

Dick’s Dinner 

• 

• 



83 

VII. 

Fudge .... 

• 

• 

• 


96 

VIII. 

Ditto .... 

• 

• 

• 


1 12 

IX. 

Lost, Mary . 

• 


• 


125 

X. 

Christmas Shopping . 

♦ 


• 


138 

XI. 

Mary’s Methods 

• 


• 


153 

XII. 

Christmas Eve . 



• 


168 

XIII. 

Larry .... 



• 


00 

XIV. 

Rod to the Rescue . 



• 


200 

XV. 

Dick’s Poor Lady 





215 

XVI. 

Mary’s Plan 





231 

XVII. 

The Working Out of It 





249 

XVIII. 

The Oasis . 





263 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


“ She moved the little wet handkerchief just 

ENOUGH TO STEAL A TIMID GLANCE AT HIM ” 

{See page 20&) ...... Frontispiece ^ 

“ Mary stood up, clasping Dick around the 
NECK so tightly, THAT SHE ALMOST CHOKED 

HIM ” 53 ^ 

“ ‘ Oh, you are going to eat it all right,’ re- 
torted Gilbert, nursing his injured fin- 
gers” 108 

“‘Oh, please hold on to me!’” . . . .131/ 

“ She threw the shawl over his head, snuff- 
ing HIM OUT LIKE A CANDLE” . . . • 175 

“ She was gathering up a heap of work, evi- 
dently HOPING TO* CONCEAL IT” . . . 212 / 

“ * Please show me how a frog’s front feet 

GO?’” 

“ The children listened, their wide eyes fixed 
ON his face, but seeing only the burning 
desert” 271 




; 












MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


CHAPTER I 

WHY NOT let’s SKATE? 

“ And I can’t and I won’t ! and I think Made- 
moiselle is mean ! ” said Marigold. 

Marigold was in the middle — she usually was 
in the middle, because all the girls liked to be 
next to her. 

Mary came next on one side, — because Mary 
always was next to her beloved “ twin,” no matter 
where they might be. Neither of them would have 
allowed any other arrangement. 

Dorothy was on the other side, and Anna and 

Gladys formed the right and left wings. 

11 


12 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


Five abreast is a good many for a city side- 
walk — five little girls in a row. 

It was well that the sidewalk was a broad one, 
for five small maidens (eleven years, going on 
twelve), with arms interlocked, fluttering and 
skipping to keep in step, and chattering so busily 
that they forget to look where they are going, take 
up a good deal of room, even on a broad and 
handsome city street. 

But nobody seemed to mind — not even the 
people who had to turn out for them. They 
glanced kindly at the little maids as they passed, 
and some of them smiled — they could not help it, 
the children made such a pretty picture, their 
faces, rosy with the keen, clear, winter air, framed 
in flying curls, big hats, and fluffy furs. 

It was the time of day when you were sure to 
meet flocks of little girls along that particular 
street — the hour when Madame Dupont’s school 
closed for the day. 


WHY NOT LET^S SKATE? 


13 


As they turned the comer into a street which 
ran along one side of the park, Marigold was still 
hotly expressing her very low opinion of her 
French teacher’s way of conducting a recitation ; 
but she changed the subject with funny abruptness ; 
for not far inside the park railings was a little lake ; 
and as she caught sight of the throng of skaters 
which blackened the first ice of the winter, the 
sentence which began petulantly with Made- 
moiselle’s shortcomings ended in a cry of pleasure. 

Oh, look ! Do let’s go over and watch, just 
a minute. I do so love to see them skate ! ” 

To the other girls the sight was not especially 
new or exciting, but to Marigold, though this was 
her second winter in the city, it was still a kind 
of fairyland. 

She stood watching it, fascinated, her hands 
clasping the iron railings and her face pressed 
against them, just as she had sometimes stood, 
in the old days, more than a year ago, when she 


14 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


was Mary Murray, gazing through the gates of 
the Meringtons’ driveway at the “ little fairy girl ” 
and her fairy mother on the lawn. But now the 
little fairy girl stood beside her and was her sister. 

“ Oh, I wish I could skate ! ” sighed Marigold. 

“Why, can’t you?” asked Anna in surprise. 
“ I thought you could do everything.” (Anna 
admired Marigold immensely.) 

“ Not when I never had any skates, or any- 
body to teach me,” answered Marigold absently, 
still gazing wistfully at the lively scene inside 
the fence ; and Anna admitted that such a double 
difficulty might be too much for even Marigold. 

“ It’s a pity you haven’t any brothers,” said 
Dorothy sympathetically. “ My brother Gilbert 
has taken me twice this week.” 

“ Or cousins — haven’t you any cousins? ” asked 
Gladys, who was a new friend. 

The others, after watching the fun for a few 
minutes, were ready to go on, and Anna was 


W^Y NOT LET’S SKATE? 


15 


stamping her cold feet impatiently ; but Marigold 
still stood absorbed in the gay spectacle until 
presently she felt Mary pulling at her sleeve. 

‘‘ Marigold ! Wake up ! ” cried Mary, laughing. 
“ That makes three times, and you don’t hear a 
word I say. I have an idea ! ” 

“ What ? What is it ? ” asked Marigold quickly, 
wide awake in a moment; for Mary’s soft gray 
eyes were sparkling with pleasure over her idea. 

‘‘Why not let’s learn to skate?” she said 
eagerly; and as Marigold looked hopeful but 
puzzled she added one word, as though that alone 
were quite explanation enough. “ Dick ! ” 

“ Why-ee, yes ! ” agreed her twin with answer- 
ing delight. “ Why didn’t we think of it before? 
He will teach us — of course he will ! ” 

“ And I know papa will get us some skates,” 
Mary went on, “ because he always likes us to 
be doing something out of doors. We will ask him 
to-night.” 


16 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


And we can ask Dick the very first time he 
comes,” added Marigold. 

‘‘ Is Dick your cousin ? ” Gladys asked. 

‘‘ No, he is our soldier,” answered Mary 
simply. But Gladys looked as though that did 
not tell her much, and Marigold explained. 

He isn’t any relation, really,” she said ; but 
he always does everything we ask him to, so he 
is just as good as a brother.” 

“ He’s a great deal better ! ” said Anna rather 
sharply. 

At the next comer the children parted, and 
Marigold and Mary went on alone, still chatter- 
ing as busily and happily as before. Mary and 
Marigold were always good company for each 
other. 

These two were not yet so used to being twin 
sisters as to forget (as little sisters, sad to say, 
sometimes do forget) what a very precious thing 
a sister is. 


WHY NOT LET’S SKATE? 


17 


They had been twin sisters now for a year, but 
the happiness of the companionship was always 
new. 

At the same time both of them fully believed 
that the adoption of Marigold by Mary Mering- 
ton’s parents had made them really own ” sis- 
ters like any other sisters — believed it so simply 
and entirely that it never occurred to them to 
explain to any one just how long they had been 
“ twins.” 

So none of their playmates ever thought of it 
either ; and Mary Murray was now to every one 
as she was to herself, Marigold Merington. 

By wonderful good luck, as it seemed to the 
children, Dick Saunders came in that very eve- 
ning, to return some borrowed books; and the 
twins fell upon him rapturously, as they always 
did. 

It was almost true, as Marigold had said, that 


18 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


Dick always did what they asked. He was to 
them something between a big brother and a young 
uncle; a person to be made much of and made 
free with — to be treated with a great deal of 
affection and not any respect at all. 

It seemed a little odd, considering that they 
had known him less than two years since that 
dreadful day when they were lost in the Dark 
Swamp woods, and he had carried them home; 
but it only showed what a good fellow Dick was, 
and how fond he was of the little girls, that they 
should be so fond of him. 

Mamma Merington liked Dick, too, and wished 
to be a helpful friend to him; so she had asked 
him to come and see them as often as he could. 
And Dick, who was of a friendly and social dis- 
position, and who in spite of friends and acquaint- 
ances sometimes found it rather lonely, boarding 
in a great city, was glad to come as often as he felt 
he ought. 


WHY NOT LET’S SKATE? 


19 


While he talked with mamma about the books 
she had lent him the children hovered around, not 
interrupting by a word; but Mary was pressing 
close against his arm, to be ready the moment 
opportunity offered, and whenever he met Mari- 
gold’s eyes he saw them shining with joyful 
expectation. Evidently, thought Dick, something 
was up. 

As soon as they were free to take possession of 
him, they carried him off gleefully to their favorite 
big chair, where one could perch on either arm 
while both talked to him at once. 

That was the way they usually talked to him; 
and Dick always said it was the luckiest thing in 
the world that he had two ears, because he could 
use one for each of them. 

In this duet fashion they laid their plan before 
him and Dick consented with the greatest readi- 
ness. He was not much more than a boy yet, and 
he had not had his own skates on for a year. 
The proposal pleased him. 


20 


MARIGOLD^S WINTER 


But it^s only if you are perfectly willing — and 
if you have nothing else at all to do next Saturday/’ 
the children said, checking their eager planning 
with anxious politeness. 

He reassured them on that point, and then he 
undertook to reassure their mother on another — 
the safety of the little lake, a few miles out of 
town, where he proposed to take them; for of 
course he scorned the tiny, overcrowded park 
lake. 

That task was a little less easy; but Dick 
was now as eager for the frolic as the little girls 
themselves, and he pleaded their cause with 
enthusiasm. 

He had played hockey all over that pond, he 
assured her earnestly, ever since he was a ‘‘ little 
kid ” (which perhaps seemed to Dick a longer 
period than it really was. He was only about 
twenty-two now). 

Moreover, a large part of the pond was merely 


WHY NOT LET’S SKATE? 


21 


overflowed meadow — the grass stuck right up 
through the ice — and if she wished they would 
promise to stay right in that part, with the 
other kids.” 

So Dick coaxed and persuaded, and mamma 
(who was a little timid about water) sat looking 
in his boyish yet manly face with a smile that grew 
by degrees less doubtful and more consenting; 
while the twins overwhelmed her with their 
eager promises to be so careful, and do just what 
Dick told them, and to stay only just as long as 
she said they might. 

At last mamma consented. There were a few 
conditions to her consent, however: as that 
the weather should be right, and the ice in per- 
fectly safe condition (papa to be the judge on this 
point), that it should not be too much trouble 
for Dick, — and lastly and much the most serious, 
to Mary and Marigold at least, that Marigold’s 
French recitations should decidedly improve before 


22 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


Saturday came (Mademoiselle to be the judge 
here). 

To this Marigold agreed meekly enough. 

She had a bright and active mind, and as her 
step-mother, Mrs. Murray, used to say, “ had not 
a lazy bone in her body.” 

She had always stood high in her classes at 
South Berket. But in such studies as were not 
taught in the Berket lower grades, she was of 
course far behind Mary ; and it was the twins’ one 
grief that on this account they had to be separated 
in some of their classes, and so could not always 
study and recite together. 

Marigold had worked hard to make up this 
difference. She had supposed she was working as 
hard as she could; but with the prospect of a 
delightful reward just ahead she soon found 
out, and with her own frank honesty confessed, 
that she could work considerably harder. 

Then Mary made a suggestion, quite simply and 


WHY NOT LET’S SKATE? 


23 


seriously, which surprised and amused her sister 
very much. 

Her proposal was that Marigold should like 
Mademoiselle, instead of hating ” her as at 
present. 

Mary had an idea that this would make the 
French recitations easier as well as pleasanter. 

At first Marigold stared and laughed at the 
funny notion that you could like anybody just 
because you made up your mind to; then she 
became charmed by the novelty of it ; and ended 
by throwing herself into it with her usual energy 
and ardor. 

In a little while it was Mademoiselle’s turn to 
be charmed; and before the important Saturday 
arrived the effect of the fresh start was already 
so plain that the state of the weather was the only 
condition remaining in doubt. 

Papa Merington’s consent was easier to gain 
than mamma’s, — for Mary had been quite 


24 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


right in counting on his approval of any plan which 
promised wholesome, out-of-door exercise for 
his two small daughters. 

One of those daughters was much rosier than 
the other, and the great desire of her father’s 
heart was to see Mary’s cheeks as firm and pink 
and her body as strong and active as Marigold’s. 

Already, in the winter and summer that had 
passed since ‘‘ Mary Murray ” became “ Mary 
Golden Merington,” a great improvement could 
be seen in the delicate little girl. The influence 
of the new sister’s bolder spirit and gipsy love for 
out-of-doors had been of the greatest benefit ; and 
any sort of play, even romping, that might help 
on this happy result was sure to be encouraged 
by papa. 


CHAPTER II 


UP DARLING RIVER 

With minds at ease about the promised pleas- 
ure for next Saturday (Dick worked in Papa Mer- 
ington’s office down town, and was only free on 
Saturday afternoons), the three playmates re- 
turned to their arm chair and their chatter. The 
twins had not seen Dick for many days, and there 
were such a lot of things to talk over ! 

Papa and mamma were talking together, too, 
and papa was also trying at the same time to 
glance over the evening papers; but every few 
minutes the triple conversation in the easy chair 
by the fire grew softly explosive with merriment, 
and it was impossible not to listen to the fun. 

The children were telling Dick now, it seemed, 
about some adventure of the past summer; and 

25 


26 


MARIGOLD^S WINTER 


Dick was finding plenty of use for both his ears. 

If you go with us,’’ Marigold had said, with 
much satisfaction, ‘‘ we’ll be sure to be perfectly 
safe. We won’t have such bad luck as we did 
the day we explored Darling River,” and on 
Dick’s expressing his ignorance of the geography 
of that stream, they both exclaimed and explained 
at once. 

Why, yes, you know ! — the dear little brook 
at Berket, that comes down through our pine 
grove. 

We’ve always called it Darling River, — be- 
cause there really is a Darling River, in the ge- 
ography, and this is such a darling brook; but 
we never knew where it came from, and Marigold 
had always wanted awfully to find out. 

So last fall, after you and Rod had gone 
away, and papa hadn’t come back from New 
York, we felt so lonesome we thought we’d better 
comfort ourselves by doing something special; 


UP DARLING RIVER 


27 


and that was the specialest thing we could think 
of — to explore Darling River and find the be- 
ginning of it. 

Oh, you can’t think how pretty it was ! We 
went ’way up through our pine grove to the stone 
wall where it’s Mr. Burleigh’s woods beyond. 
The river came right through the stone wall so 
we climbed over on top of it — because we were 
‘ voyageurs^ you know, so we had to go every- 
where the river went, — that’s exploring. 

Mr. Burleigh’s woods are pine woods too, 
like ours, but they are thick and dark and solemn, 
not all spotty with sunshine as ours are ; and the 
pine needles are so thick and soft on the ground 
you can’t hear your feet when you step. 

So we were going along as still as mice, just 
listening to the quietness, when all at once, what 
do you think ! There was a great whizz and whirr, 
as if something had burst, on the ground right 
in front of us, and then the thing flew off through 


28 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


the trees, humming like a great big top. And 
we looked where the burst was, and there in front of 
our feet, as near us as that chair, was a nice little, 
round, smooth hole in the pine needles, about as 
big as the top of your hat. It was just at the foot 
of a big pine tree, — and what do you s’pose 
was in it ? ” 

Dick couldn’t guess ! He wouldn’t have guessed, 
and spoiled the pleasure of telling him, for the 
world. 

“ Thir-teen eggs! ” cried both children at once. 
‘‘Just like a dear little hen’s nest ! And they were 
all warm, and it was the little mother-hen partridge 
that burst up and flew off. Mamma says so. 

“ She didn’t go very far, — she stopped in a patch 
of little, thin, low bushes, and kept running around 
and crying — sort of mewing, it sounded like — 
as if she were dreadfully frightened. 

“We didn’t go after her, for of course we 
wouldn’t scare her any worse; so we sat down 


UP DARLING RIVER 


29 


near the nest and waited for her to come back. 
But we waited an awjul long time, and she didn^t 
come.’^ 

“ Come back — and you sitting there ! Well, 
I guess not ! ’’ Dick began to laugh, but checked 
himself and waited for the rest of it. 

Papa was laughing too, quietly, behind his 
newspaper. They both knew something of the 
ways of partridges. 

‘‘ Well, she wouldn’t come back and she 
wouldn’t go away,” Marigold went on with busi- 
nesslike briskness, “so at last we had to give 
it up, if we wanted to get to the beginning of the 
brook. 

“We went through the pine woods, and then 
some other kind of woods; and then came a 
cleared, pasture place with gray, mossy rocks 
tumbled all about, like a flock of sheep lying down. 
And there we found the checkerberries ! Oh, just 
as thick — you never saw checkerberries so thick. 


30 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


“ And there were blackberries, too, in the edge 
of the woods, — the tiny, seedsy ones, don’t you 
know, that grow in shady places. So we thought 
that was a good place to have our picnic.” 

‘^Special picnic?” queried Dick. ‘‘I should 
say the whole affair was a good deal of a picnic, 
myself.” 

‘‘ Why, no,” they corrected him. The some- 
thing to eat is the picnic part. It isn’t a picnic 
unless you have cracker pies, or something like 
that. Of course we had some in our pock- 
ets—” 

‘‘Pies?” echoed Dick, mystified, — pie in 
your pocket ? ” 

“ Cmc^^r-pies,” the duet corrected again. 
“ The plain, round kind of cracker that you split; 
and then you put berried in, and squash them. 
Raspberries are the best. Cracker pies make a 
lovely picnic. 

“We made them with blackberries, and then 


UP DARLING RIVER 


31 


we tried mixing in some of the checkerberries ; 
but that made them taste just a little queer. 

“ But we picked our little baskets full of checker- 
berries for mamma, and then we went on exploring. 
But the woods got so thick and bushy, and the 
banks were so steep, we had to take off our shoes 
and go in the brook to get along at all. It was so 
exciting, Dick ! ’’ 

“Yes, I should say so — a pair like you!’’ 
Dick agreed. “ But where does the bad luck 
you were talking about come in? I never heard 
of such good luck as finding a partridge on her 
nest 1 ” 

“ Oh, the bad luck came at the end,” they told 
him, laughing. “ That was why we had to give up 
exploring and go home, without ever finding out 
where Darling River comes from. 

“ We had climbed up on the bank again, — it 
was all rocks, and moss, and fallen-down trees, 
but the brook had little waterfalls and then deep 


32 


MARIGOLD^S WINTER 


holes, every few steps, so we couldn’t wade any 
more. 

Then we came to a perfectly beautiful hole, 
so deep it was just black, and it ran ’way in under 
the bank. And we knew there must be trouts in it, 
because — ” 

Trout — trout 1 ” Dick interrupted in a shocked 
voice. 

“ — trout in it,” repeated the duet obediently, 
“ because it was just like the brooks we saw in 
the mountains last year; and whenever we came 
to a hole like that papa would stand still and look 
at it, and say he’d bet there was a trout under 
that bank. He didn’t really see any,” Mary ex- 
plained conscientiously No, he didn’t see 
any ! ” murmured Dick, who was a fisherman 
himself), but he knew they were there, — so of 
course we knew it, too ; and we were hunting for 
the trouts” (“Trout,” said Dick), “ — for the 
trout ; but we couldn’t see in under the bank far 
enough. 


UP DARLING RIVER 


33 


So we walked out on an old log in the water — ’’ 
Marigold was talking fast, her excitement growing 
with the tale — “ and it was all grown over with 
that green moss that feels sposhy when you step 
on it, and streams out in the water like mermaids’ 
hair, you know.” 

“ Yes, I know, — exactly like ’em,” Dick 
assented. 

“ And we walked ’way out, and the log jiggled 
so — ” Mary had chimed in again, and the duet 
grew confused, like a fugue : “ so it scared the 
trout, and he jumped — he popped right out of 
the water — and that scared us — no, we weren’t 
scared^ exactly, but it prised us ; and we jumped 
— no, not really jumped, but we sort of jumped ; 
and the log turned over — ” 

“ And Mary — sat — right — down I ” finished 
Marigold in a little gleeful shriek. 

Dick threw back his head and laughed out, — 
and so did Papa Merington ; but the chil- 


34 


MARIGOLD^S WINTER 


dren were too intent on their story to be inter- 
rupted. 

‘‘ Then Marigold tried to pull me up, and she 
stepped off the log; and the water splashed 
some — ’’ (‘‘Some?” said Dick) “so she was 
just as wet as I was. And that mermaid’s hair 
stuff sticks to you like everything ; so when we got 
up on the bank again, you ought to have seen us ! 
We looked pretty funny.” 

“ Quite so ! ” agreed Dick gravely. “ And the 
trout — how did he look ? ” 

“ Oh, we didn’t see him any more after that,” 
Mary explained, quite seriously; and at that 
papa and Dick exploded again. 

“ We put on our shoes and stockings, quick,” 
Marigold went on ; “ and I wasn’t very cold, but 
Mary was so cold her teeth clicked ; so we hurried 
all we could, and where the path was clear 
we ran. And when we got out of the woods 
into the hay-field, what do you think? We 


UP DARLING RIVER 


35 


didn't have a single checkerberry left in our bas- 
kets ! " 

Not a single one, just think ! " sighed Mary. 
‘‘ And so now, you see, we don't know the be- 
ginning of Darling River yet ! " 

Well, perhaps it's nicer that you don't," Dick 
suggested consolingly. ‘‘ If you had found the 
beginning, you would know all about it, and there 
would be only one; but now you can keep on 
‘ supposing ' all sorts of pretty places for it and 
have as many beginnings as you can imagine, 
until next summer." 

Dick happened to know that brook and its 
trout pools very well, and he knew its beginning, 
in a little alder swamp, not far beyond the scene 
of their catastrophe. 

All the same," he added as he carefully 
released himself from the armchair and the twins' 
double embrace, ‘‘ I quite sympathize now with 
your point of view. The trip wasn't much of a 


36 


MARIGOLD^S WINTER 


success, considered either as going berrying or 
going fishing. We will hope for better luck when 
we go skating.’^ And then he rose to say good 
night. 

When mamma came down after tucking the 
children in that night, papa laid down his paper 
and began to laugh again. 

“ This is a wonderful tale of exploration and 
adventure,’^ he said. ‘‘ Why did I never hear 
of it before? 

Mamma smiled also, in sympathy with his 
amusement. 

‘‘ It was while you were in New York,” she 
answered ; ‘‘ and I suppose when you came 

home we all forgot it, we were so busy moving 
back to town.” 

‘‘But are you sure it did them no harm? 
Didn’t Mary take cold ? ” he questioned rather 
anxiously. 


UP DARLING RIVER 


37 


Oh, no, not a bit ! ” she answered tranquilly. 

It was a warm day. Of course I gave them a good 
bath and rub, and they were in clean clothes 
and ready for fresh mischi^ inside an hour. 

But doesn’t it show how much stronger Mary 
is — how wonderfully she has gained in these two 
summers since we found Marigold? My dear, 
we owe very much to our new daughter. The 
companionship and the wholesome romping have 
done Mary a world of good. Two years ago, 
if that had happened it would surely have made 
her ill.” 

Yes, it is certainly a wonderful improvement,” 
said papa thoughtfully ; '' but the change in Mary 
is not the greatest wonder: the greatest is the 
change in Mary’s mother — that she takes all 
these mishaps and adventures so serenely. If 
this had happened two years ago, you would have 
sent for a doctor and telegraphed for me ! ” 

Perhaps I should,” she laughed. “ Yes, 


38 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


Marigold has done me good too. I worry less over 
two children than I used to over one. 

‘‘ Indeed there is no use worrying about Mari- 
gold; she gets into her scrapes and out of them 
so quickly there really isn’t time. Twice as many 
daughters seems to mean ten times as many 
pranks. But she always comes safely out of her 
adventures.” 

“Yes, — but that is one point that troubles 
me a little,” papa said doubtfully. “ They are 
always Marigold’s adventures — it is she who 
plans and puts them through. 

“ The little witch is a born leader — but doesn’t 
she lead Mary a little too much ? — give her no 
chance to develop her own strength of character? 
I don’t want my Marykin to be ‘ ditto ’ to any- 
body, even her twin.” 

“ Oh, not at all,” put in the mother quickly. 
“ Don’t be afraid, dear — I am sure there is no 
danger. Marigold takes the lead, I know, out- 


UP DARLING RIVER 


39 


of-doors, but romping isn’t the only thing. In 
other ways Mary is the leader quite as often: 
watch them, and you will see. Mary has plenty 
of character of her own — a very strong, sweet 
little character; and it has influenced Marigold 
strongly, too. Only see how she has improved 
this year, dear child. While Mary has grown two 
inches since April, and has three freckles on her 
nose!” 

Papa laughed. ‘‘ True little mother ! ” he said. 
“ She won’t hear a word against either of her 
chickens. Don’t worry, dear — I am very well 
satisfied with both my daughters, and very proud 
of them both.” 


CHAPTER III 


GOING SKATING 

All ready? Sure you haven’t forgotten your 
skates?” Dick asked. “Why, you look as pert 
and pretty as a pair of blue- jays.” 

They did really remind one of those trim and 
saucy winter birds as they stood ready, prancing 
with impatience to be off. 

Their long gray-blue winter coats were of the 
jays’ own color, and with their big blue hats and 
soft silvery furs they made as pretty a winter 
picture as one could wish to see. 

Each was swinging in one hand the precious 
new pair of skates, shining bright as silver ; and at 
that surprisingly stupid question they shook and 
jingled them at the questioner in triumphant scorn. 

Forget their skates indeed ! Had they not spent 

40 


GOING SKATING 


41 


every spare moment of the past three days ad- 
miring them, polishing them, gloating over them ? 
all but eating and sleeping with them ? No, they 
had not forgotten their skates I 

Dick would have taken charge of both pairs, 
along with his own, but neither little girl would 
relinquish her treasure for a moment. So they 
set forth, gaily; and mamma, watching them 
from the window, smiled with fond pride after 
the two blue-clad little figures, tripping and chat- 
tering on either side of their tall escort, like the 
blue- jays he had called them, and proudly swing- 
ing the bright little skates, which glittered and 
twinkled as far down the street as her eyes could 
follow them. 

They took the street-car — they rode through 
the city and out to the pleasant suburbs, where 
pretty houses stood apart, and the high banks 
of snow that walled the sidewalks were white 
instead of brown. Vanilla snow,’’ Mary said. 

Ours is chocolate.” 


42 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


None of them found the trip long; the little 
girls were too eager to see, and enjoy, and under- 
stand everything they came to, and they kept 
Dick too busy and amused with their chatter 
and questions. 

“ Mary ’n’ Mary ” were famous for keeping 
people busy ; it was impossible to be bored where 
they were. 

From the car they had only a few minutes’ walk 
to the pond, which lay almost in the heart of a big 
thriving town, and was bordered by streets and 
houses on all sides except that one where the 
overflowed meadows which Dick had described 
stretched away, wide and smooth, to a maple 
swamp. 

To this side of the lake they made their way, 
running and sliding along the shore, where the 
circling crowd of skaters was not so dense; and 
there, kneeling before the tussocks of coarse 
meadow grass, which made very convenient seats, 


GOING SKATING 


43 


Dick carefully adjusted first one and then the other 
pair of shiny little new skates. 

Then he slipped his own on quickly ; but before 
he could rise to his feet Marigold had tumbled 
down twice, and Mary three times. 

Dick proved himself an excellent teacher, for 
he would not allow them to push with one foot 
and slide on the other, as beginners naturally do, 
but insisted on their learning the right motion 
first of all, and then doing it that way and no other. 

He helped each in turn while the other prac- 
tised alone (or rather, got up and fell down), and 
was much pleased to see how quickly they ‘‘ got 
the hang of it,” as he said. 

At intervals, while they rested, clinging to each 
other and getting their breath, he would skate 
around them with marvellous fancy strokes, or 
cut the most beautiful figures on some smooth bit 
of ice near by. 

And then, by ones and twos people would stop 


44 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


and gather to watch and admire ; and sometimes 
one would ask him how he did this or that, — 
and the children felt immensely proud of him. 

Marigold was as usual a little the bolder of the 
two, and made quicker progress; so she gener- 
ously allowed Mary to have two-thirds of Dick, 
while she worked away by herself, with a flushed 
and frowning face. 

I will make my feet go where I tell them to ! ” 
she declared. The idea of their not! ” 

By and by Dick started off with Mary, holding 
her firmly with crossed hands, to make a circuit 
of the shore — her first long venture. 

Their progress was necessarily slow, and was 
made much slower and more complicated by 
Mary’s desire to skate and talk at the same time ; 
so between holding her up, watching for collisions, 
and answering her questions, Dick’s hands were 
more than full. 

Oh, Dick ! ” she panted presently, “ we al- 


GOING SKATING 


45 


most forgot to tell you, only think! Mamma 
wants us — to go see Grampavance — before we 
start for home.” 

“ All right,” responded Dick, steadying her. 
“ We will do it. But will you kindly inform me 
first, just what is a grampavance ? ” (That really 
was the way it sounded as Mary said it.) 

She laughed a joyous peal, and toppled peri- 
lously. 

Why, Dick, don^t you know ? Haven’t we 
ever told you about Grandpa Vance?” and as 
they continued on their wavering course she pro- 
ceeded, breathlessly and disjointedly, to explain. 

‘‘ He’s not exactly our real grandpa, you know, 
— only we call him so because mamma did, 
when she was little and used to play with his 
grandchildren. 

And now they are all grown up and dead, 
and he — oh, Dick! — he has to live with Mr. 
and Mrs. Pepperell, and — oh, catch me! I’m 


46 


MARIGOLD^S WINTER 


going! — and it isn’t far — away — from here, 
mamma thought,” and Mary came to a period and 
a full stop ” at the same moment. 

When Dick had helped her up and brushed 
her off and started her on again, she resumed her 
story as though no interruption had occurred. 

‘‘ Grampavance is so nice, and he loves to have 
us come and see him — so mamma brings us 
with her as often as she can. He has lovely long 
white whiskers, and he is writing a book — why, 
what does make me wobble so? — all about the 
Greeks and Romans and their battles — because 
he says that all the people who wrote the histories 
made mistakes. 

But papa says that doesn’t matter much, 
because — Oh — oh, quick! — because if the 
histories hadn’t made the mistakes the Greeks 
and Romans would have made them. He says — 
if there weren’t any mistakes — there wouldn’t — 
be — any wars ^ 


GOING SKATING 


47 


Why, Dick, isn^t it funny ! When I talk I 
fall down ! ’’ 

‘‘ Yes,’’ said Dick, picking her up, ‘‘ and that’s 
why I am afraid you will never make a real, 
crack skater. But now let’s go back and meet 
Marigold — that little blue speck ’way back 
there, see ? ” 

‘‘Why, yes, how far we’ve come! — she seems 
a mile away, but doesn’t she skate beautifully? ” 

“ And so do you,” he answered encouragingly. 
“ It would never do for one Mary to get ahead of 
the other. ‘ Mary ’n’ Mary ’ always go together. 

“ Now suppose you try going back all alone — 
Yes, let go of me; you’ll get one-sided, holding 
on so tight. Besides, it might make you talk 
one-sided, and then how you’d feel ! 

“ Don’t look at your feet — keep your eyes on 
that boat-house over there, and make a bee line 
for it. And don’t talk — don’t open your mouth, 
except when you want to scream. Of course you 


48 


MARIGOLD^S WINTER 


can scream all you like ; that is part of learning to 
skate.’^ 

So they started back toward Marigold, who was 
coming slowly after them with short, determined 
strokes. 

Mary took full advantage of Dick’s permission 
to scream; but he kept close beside her, and as 
often as she began to “ wobble ” she found herself 
caught and steadied almost before she had time 
to scream. And so, proceeding cautiously but 
bravely, they did so well that there was not a 
single upset until she reached Marigold. Then 
the two promptly fell into each other’s arms, and 
Dick picked them both up, one with each hand. 

Next came Marigold’s turn for a final lesson. 

Always a little stronger than Mary, and more 
skilful in the use of her muscles, she had made 
surprising progress ; and now she stoutly declared 
that she had learned to skate plain, and next time 
they came she was going to learn to skate on her 
edges, like Dick. 


GOING SKATING 


49 


You needn’t wait till then,” he assured her. 
‘‘ You’ve skated on every edge you’ve got, this 
afternoon ! ” 

Her cheeks were flushed, and her hair was 
tumbled, and her breath was nearly gone; but 
she was so pleased and inspired by her success 
in acquiring this new art, and so intent on practis- 
ing it and feeling her growing skill, that she was 
quite unconscious of fatigue, and very unwilling 
to stop when Dick announced that it was time. 

‘‘ You will be quite stiff enough to-morrow 
without any more of it,” he said. Besides,” 
he added adroitly, “ Mary’s getting tired, and she 
will be lamer than you will ; ” and at that Marigold 
gave in instantly. She was always motherly 
careful of Mary. 

She stood still and waited while Dick went 
back to meet that little person, who was following 
bravely but very unsteadily behind them, and at 
Dick’s approach flung both arms around him 


50 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


with such a wild clutch of relief that they both 
very nearly went down together. 

Then he made her lean against him and hold 
herself stiff and straight with her feet close to- 
gether, while he pushed her, skating slowly and 
smoothly, across the meadow back to their starting 
point. 

It was delightful to glide along so easily with 
no effort of her own, and Mary fervently declared 
that she would like to go a million miles that way ! 
but Dick thought perhaps half a million would be 
enough for him. 

And besides. Marigold was waiting — and 
M^ry was eager that she too should have the 
pleasure of being pushed. 

Marigold said it made her feel like a baby- 
carriage, but she liked it as much as Mary had, 
and when at last they all stood beside the shore 
ready to take off their skates, the little girls’ faces 
were shining with such perfect satisfaction and 


GOING SKATING 


51 


contentment that Dick felt his half-holiday had 
been well spent. 

But now for the first time they began to be con- 
scious of their tired little bodies. 

“ It buzzes^ all over me,” said Mary — Vay 
down to my toes and fingers. It feels almost like 
hitting your crazy-bone, only it doesn’t hurt. 
What makes it go like that, Dick? ” 

‘‘ It’s because you are tired, — you have been 
working pretty hard this last hour, — didn’t you 
know it?” Dick said rather anxiously, ‘‘but I 
can’t let you rest here — you mustn’t cool off too 
fast.” 

He stood looking doubtfully at his precious 
little pair of responsibilities, while they clung 
to his coat sleeves and stamped their benumbed 
feet, wondering if he had let them keep at it too 
long. 

But Mary’s rosy cheeks reassured him; he 
knew how easily that pretty briar-rose pink would 
fade if she were over-tired. 


52 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


As for Marigold, she was sure to be all right 
as long as Mary was — and a little longer. 

Still, he was a little puzzled as to what to do 
next; and he began for the first time to feel the 
full weight of the responsibility he had so cheer- 
fully assumed. 

It was Marigold who relieved his mind. 

She was clasping his arm with both hands to 
support herself while she tried experiments with her 
feet. Suddenly she bethought her to make the 
inquiry — Now, are we going to see — Grandpa 
Vance 

The last word popped out with unintentional 
emphasis as Marigold unexpectedly sat down. 
The experiment had been a failure. 

Why, that’s so,” said Dick in a relieved tone, 
detaching Mary from his other sleeve and kneeling 
beside her collapsed twin. ‘‘ I was forgetting all 
about that venerable relative. 

“ Now I guess we’ll get these things off, so you 



“ MARY STOOD UP, CLASPING DICK AROUND THE NECK SO 
TIGHTLY THAT SHE ALMOST CHOKED HIM.” 


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GOING SKATING 


53 


can stand on your feet instead of your heads, 
and then we will go look up our friends and get 
good and warm before you start for home. How 
far off does this Grampavance live ? ” 

Marigold sat where she was while her skates 
were unfastened and then scrambled to her feet. 

Mary stood up, clasping Dick around the neck 
so tightly, as he knelt before her, that she almost 
choked and quite blinded him. 

But presently her skates were off also, and then 
his own ; and then the two bright little pairs were 
slung on the same strap with the long, well-worn 
ones, and they left the ice — the children walking 
stiffly and wondering why they seemed to have 
no toes at all. 


CHAPTER IV 


MRS. PEPPERELL’S TEA 

It was not far, they found, from the lake to the 
small, quiet side street where Grampavance 
(or, rather, where the Pepperell family) lived. 

The house was a very plain one, long and nar- 
row, with only space enough at the side for a 
narrow path leading to the back yard, and it stood 
so close to the street that the front steps went 
directly up from the sidewalk. 

Dick had hardly pulled the bell knob when a 
loud, firm step sounded within, approaching 
through a long hallway with a rapid stride, and 
the door was opened smartly by Mrs. Pepperell 
herself. 

Land o’ Goshen 1 ” said Mrs. Pepperell. 

If it isn’t Mary ’n’ Marigold ! Where under 

64 


MRS. PEPPERELL’S TEA 


55 


the canopy did you drop from, this cold day? 
Come right in and get warm, ’s quick’s you can.” 
She stepped back and flung open the parlor door. 
Mary and Marigold had both opened their lips 
at the same moment to introduce Dick, but Mrs. 
Pepperell gave them no time as she hurried them 
inside and slammed the street door, still talking. 

Your gran’pa will be tickled to death to see 
you. He was speaking of it only this morning, 
what a time it’s been since any of you was out. 
Where’s your mother? Any of you been sick? ” 
As she spoke she jerked open the door of the 
big base-burner stove, slammed it shut after one 
critical glance, and in the same instant pushed 
open a slide at the base with her foot. 

Only after these hospitable preliminaries were 
over, did she pause for an answer to her questions, 
and give the little girls a chance to explain why 
they had come without their mother, and to pre- 
sent their escort. 


56 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


Then for the first time Mrs. Pepperell seemed 
to realize the presence of a stranger; and she 
looked him over with a frank, keen, summing up 
inspection which made Dick feel thankful that he 
was really a respectable person and that his collar 
was clean. 

He returned her look with an equal interest, 
for it was easy to see that Mrs. PeppereU was a 

character.” 

She was a tall, strongly built, large boned 
woman, uncompromisingly plain in both face 
and dress, and with an odd effect of not matching 
her surroundings. The small and somewhat 
stuffy parlor did not seem to belong to her at all. 

It was not until she had pulled off the children’s 
coats and pushed their chairs close to the stove 
that she remembered she had not notified Mr. 
Vance of their visit. 

‘‘ I’ll go see if the old gentleman’s up,” she said. 

He hasn’t been real well since that spell he had 


MRS. PEPPERELL’S TEA 


57 


back in the fall and he lays down considerable, 
afternoons.” 

She retreated to some inner room on the same 
floor, and presently returned to report that he 
was just waking up and would be out soon. 

“ Now hadn’t you better all just come out in the 
dining-room, where it’s warmer?” she went on. 
‘‘I keep this front room warm, anyways 

in the world, after the sun gets off it in the after- 
noon.” 

They followed her into the dining-room, which 
was also sitting-room, and had a more comfortable 
air of being lived in every day. 

The visitors found seats for themselves as much 
out of Mrs. Pepperell’s way as possible, and she 
moved rapidly back and forth while she went 
on talking. 

Now I’m just going to make you something 
hot to drink — you’ll need it. I’ll be bound. No, 
now don’t you say one word, it ain’t a mite of 


58 


MARIGOLD^S WINTER 


trouble, — it won’t take a minute to boil the 
kettle, and I’m just going to give you what I’ve 
got. Besides, I can give the old gentleman his 
tea at the same time — he has his early, for Mr. 
Pepperell he doesn’t get home tiU pretty late — 
and he’ll be pleased as Punch to have company. 
So you sit right still, and don’t you say a word ! ” 
Mrs. Pepperell did not mean literally to enjoin 
perfect silence, but her guests were well content 
to rest comfortably in the warm room watching 
her brisk movements, and let her do most of the 
talking. 

So you’ve been skating,” she went on, as she 
hurried into the kitchen, and then her words were 
lost in the shaking of the stove-grate. In another 
minute she had whisked across the room and into 
a deep closet, whence her voice emerged accom- 
panied by the opening and shutting of a tin cake 
box. 

When I was a girl — Mary, had you just as 


MRS. PEPPERELL’S TEA 


59 


soon hand me that plate off the sideboard? — I 
used to be a great hand for skating. You will 
have to eat cold bread, so I might as well give 
you a little mite of this plum cake to help it down.” 

She was cutting the cake now, with vigorous 
strokes, and it smelled delicious. 

But I don’t know — I guess nowadays I’d 
just as lief somebody that’s younger’n what I 
am should do my skating for me, and let me keep 
warm. It’s a pretty cold kind of fun, I call it.” 
She brought out the cake plate and set it down 
with a thump in the middle of the table. 

Everything she did seemed to be done with a 
thump. She was what old-fashioned people call 
a ‘‘ driver.” 

‘‘ You must be half froze, both of you young 
ones. You’d ought by good rights to have a good 
hot cup of composition apiece, and I wish’t I had 
some of it in the house.” 

The little girls looked puzzled. They had never 


60 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


tasted composition tea,” so they did not shudder; 
but Dick did. He felt very thankful indeed that 
it was the ordinary kind of tea that his hostess was 
now shaking out of the tin canister. 

By this time he had found out what it was that 
gave Mrs. Pepperell her queer air of being at odds 
with her belongings. It was the “ up-country ” 
type. 

She was a country woman, born and bred, 
and she could have looked really at home only in a 
roomy old farmhouse kitchen with its yellow 
painted floor, and the pump in the sink. 

The stride and swing of her movements sug- 
gested the long distances between stove and wood- 
shed, buttery and dinner-table. 

In the small city tenement her energetic motions 
were checked at every other step, and this habit 
of being continually brought up short gave an 
abruptness and jerkiness to her actions which was 
quaintly reflected in her conversation. 


MRS. PEPPERELL’S TEA 


61 


“ They used to say — do you like cheese, Mr. — 
I don’t know now as I’ve got your name.” 

Dick said it was Saunders, and that he did. 

‘‘Yes, they called me the best skater there was 
in our village, — amongst the girls, that is,” Mrs. 
Pepperell went on, diving into the sideboard 
cupboard for the cheese. “ Many’s the time I’ve 
skated down to the Lower Plains village and 
back — a good ten miles — on a moonlight eve- 
ning, and thought nothing of it.” 

“ Then you haven’t always lived here? ” Dick 
slipped in. 

“Here? My land, no!” She went into the 
kitchen, lifted the teakettle lid, and returned with 
the bread plate. 

“ I was born and brought up in the country, 
and I never was out of sight of the mountains 
till after I was twenty” — she went out again 
for the butter — “ and I wish’ t I was there now: 
it’s the only place to live 1 ” 


62 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


‘‘Yes,” assented Dick with a reflective smile, 
“ you can have pretty good times in the country.” 

“ Well, I guess ! ” returned his hostess with 
emphasis. “ When I think of the hay-rides and 
the boat-rides in the summer, and the sleigh-rides 
and skating and sliding down hill, I don’t see for the 
life of me what young folks want to live in a city 
fori But I notice considerable many do,” she 
added drily. 

She paused and looked the table over with a 
vaguely troubled expression as though conscious 
that something was lacking but uncertain what. 

Then she gave a start and a short laugh. 

“ Well, I should think as much ! Here I am 
talking away and forgetting half what I’m about ! 
— or doing it wrong end to. You can’t talk and 
work, my mother used to say. 

“ I ain’t set the table at all, yet — I guess I 
must have thought you all ate with your fin- 
gers ! ” 


MRS. PEPPERELL’S TEA 


63 


Marigold had already silently noted this pecu- 
liarity in her arrangements, and felt much re- 
lieved as another dash into the deep closet pro- 
duced a tottering pile of dishes. 

But Mrs. Pepperell could not deny herself the 
pleasure of recalling her girlhood memories, and 
the stream of her talk flowed on while she placed 
the cups and plates ; but she set them down more 
gently than before, and her hard features wore 
a reminiscent smile. 

There was one time on that pond Vl\ never 
forget the longest day I live,’’ she said. The 
most ridiculous thing ! 

‘‘ ’Twas the brightest moonlight, and all the 
young people in town were out. 

‘‘ That was the winter they started the tub- 
factory, and there was considerable many strangers 
in town. 

‘‘ Somehow or other I’d got separated from the 
girls I was with, and was skating along alone in a 


64 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


kind of a lonesome stretch, when here comes 
this young man, a-sailing before the wind. 

‘‘ ’Twas plain to be seen he wa’n’t any great 
of a skater by the way he came along ; for he was 
using considerable ice, and his arms and legs 
was going every which- way — the most ridiculous 
spectacle, he was. I tried to get out of his way, 
but land ! the pond wa’n’t big enough. 

“ Seemed as if one of his feet was politer than 
the other, and tried to turn out for me, but the 
other one hadn’t as good manners.” She paused 
a moment, the sugar bowl in one hand. 

The children were in fits of laughter, and Dick’s 
face wore an absent grin, as of one who gazed on 
visions of the past. 

Mrs. Pepperell regarded them for a minute 
with a look of indulgence ; then, coming to herself 
with a start, she looked into the bowl to see how 
much sugar was in it, shook it up as if to make sure 
it was not deceiving her, and set it on the table 
with a thud. 


MRS. PEPPERELL’S TEA 


65 


Well, anyhow,” she resumed, punctuating 
now with the clink of forks and spoons as she 
laid them down, — ‘‘ there he came, ^ a-flying all 
abroad ’ as you might say, — and there was I, — 
and there was the ice ; and then, first thing I knew, 
there was all three of us ! He^d run plump into me, 
full tilt, and down we both went 1 And I guess 
folks must have felt the jar over to the village.” 

Having completed the setting of the table, 
Mrs. Pepperell had started, teapot in hand, for 
the kitchen, but paused midway, absorbed in 
her tale. 

‘‘ Well, it was all of a minute, I guess, what 
with being so shook up, and so dumbfounded, 
before it entered into our heads we could do such 
a thing as get up again — either one of us. 

So there we sat, looking at each other — per- 
fectly ridiculous ! 

“ He was quite a pleasant appearing, stoutish 
young man — a perfect stranger to me — but, 


66 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


land! I didn’t think anything about that at the 
time, — I was good and mad; but he looked 
as smiling as a basket of chips 1 

‘‘ ‘ Well, for the land’s sake I ’ says I. ‘ What 
under the canopy are you trying to do ? ’ 

< Why,’ says he, as cool as you please, ‘ I 
thought ’twould be a nice place to make a hole in 
the ice, and catch some fish.’ ” 

Mrs. Pepperell made an eloquent pause, and 
waved the teapot silently, as though unable to 
express her sense of the supreme ridiculousness 
of this. 

Dick and the little girls laughed gaily, and her 
grim smile deepened in evident enjoyment of their 
appreciation. 

‘‘ Well,” said Dick presently, uncertain whether 
this was the end of the story, — did you catch 
anything? ” 

Mrs. Pepperell had recollected her errand, and 
turned to go. 


MRS. PEPPERELL^S TEA 


67 


‘‘ Nothing but the young man/' she flung back 
drily over her shoulder, — ‘‘ That was the first 
time ever I laid eyes on Mr. Pepperell." 

She vanished into the kitchen, and they heard 
the kettle jingle and clash as she filled the teapot. 

Into the sudden quiet which followed her exit 
came the sound of an opening door, and then the 
slow tap of a cane in the hall; and the children 
sprang up to meet ‘‘ Grampavance " as he 
entered. 

Dick rose quickly, too, at sight of the new comer, 
and waited respectfully for his greeting. 

Mr. Vance was a tall old man, with a gentle, 
scholarly face and a beautiful long white beard. 
He seemed to be very lame, and moved slowly 
and with difiiculty, leaning on a heavy cane. 

If he was ‘‘ as pleased as Punch " to see his 
visitors, he certainly did not express his feelings 
as freely as that gentleman does, and the only 
likeness between them seemed to be the size of their 


68 


MARIGOLD^S WINTER 


sticks. But he was evidently fond of the children, 
and very glad to see them. 

There was something pleasantly old fashioned 
in his manner, — a formality and courtesy in his 
way of speech ; and he treated the little girls with 
a serious politeness, — quite as though they were 
grown-up ladies, — which embarrassed while it 
pleased them. 

Dick also was gratified by his reception; and 
he sat by, while Mary and Marigold told about 
their day’s excursion and gave their mother’s 
messages, wondering what kind of a real grand- 
father this dignified old gentleman would make. 

A little too dignified and impressive for every 
day, perhaps, he thought; but what a splendid 
grandfather for Sundays! 


CHAPTER V 


GRAMPA VANCE AND DEMOSTHENES 

When Mrs. Pepperell came in again, the teapot 
in one hand and a plate of cold meat in the other, 
she was followed by another member of the house- 
hold, on whom the children pounced with cries 
of delighted welcome. 

He was a magnificent great yellow cat, short 
haired but superbly marked with broad dark 
bands and stripings. 

His broad, fluffy face and golden eyes wore an 
expression of perfect placidity and affability, and 
his manners were a good deal like Mr. Vance’s, 
dignified but kind. 

He serenely allowed himself to be patted and 
stroked and poored ” by four little hands at 
once, and when Mary lifted him — using both 

69 


70 


MARIGOLD^S WINTER 


arms and all her strength — into Dick’s lap, 
to introduce the two, he graciously staid there for 
a minute or two, his yellow eyes gazing, tranquil 
and unwinking, in Dick’s face, and his great tail 
sweeping to and fro in long, slow curves. 

Dick liked cats, and was properly flattered by 
his friendliness (as any one is, whether he likes 
it or not, when a cat or a baby makes friends with 
him). 

The children called him, caressingly, Mossy ; ” 
but Mr. Vance addressed him formally by his 
full, impressive title of “ Demosthenes,” and 
treated him as he did every one, with grave, 
kindly politeness. 

When presently Demosthenes jumped down 
from Dick’s knees, with a soft heavy thud upon 
the carpet, he crossed the room and seated himself, 
very tall and dignified, close by Grandpa Vance’s 
chair, within easy reach of his absently stroking 
hand. Evidently the two were old friends, and 
understood each other. 


GRAMPAVANCE 


71 


Mrs. Pepperell now made her last impetuous 
entry, this time with a pitcher in each hand, 
containing the milk and hot water. 

Well, now we are ready at last, — you can 
fetch up your chairs.” 

‘‘ I presume you^d rather have cambric tea,” 
she went on briskly, addressing the little girls. 

Your mother^s got too much sense, I know, 
to let you drink tea and coffee, — and I^d know 
by those red cheeks of yours, if no other way.” 

As she stopped speaking to attend to the vari- 
ous cups and saucers, Dick made a comphmen- 
tary remark about Mossy, who remained where 
Grandpa Vance had left him, sitting bolt upright 
and gravely watching them all. 

Mrs. Pepperell did not seem displeased by the 
admiration he excited, but apparently she did not 
share it herself, for she eyed him with a sort of 
tolerant disapproval. 

Yes,” she said ironically, thaPs a very valu- 


72 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


able cat, I call him. I’ve had him three years, and 
not one blessed thing has he caught in that time 
for himself. I catch the mice and give ’em to him ! 

He won’t go out — you can’t get him to go — 
just sits around like a bump on a log, getting 
fatter and lazier every day he lives. He’s well 
enough to look at, but for keeping the mice away 
he don’t amount to a hill of beans ! 

I’d have given him away long ago if it wasn’t 
for Mr. Vance, — but he thinks the world and all 
of him. He sets in his room with him the greatest 
part of the time, and I believe my soul they read 
Greek together.” 

As Mrs. Pepperell lifted the teapot to pour the 
tea she stopped suddenly, holding her uplifted 
arm stiff and still. 

“ Go ’way ! ” she said severely. “ Get down ! 
That ain’t manners.” And then they all saw the 
great soft yellow paw hooked firmly into her sleeve. 
Demosthenes was asking for his supper. 


GRAMPAVANCE 


73 


He got down, and he went away, — his dignity 
not in the least ruffled by his rebuff. He made 
the circuit of the table, rubbing gently against 
each person as he passed, and halted beside Mr. 
Vance. 

After a few minutes, when he judged the atten- 
tion of the company had been diverted from his 
proceedings, his big yellow ears appeared just 
above the edge of the table, as he stood with his 
paws resting on Mr. Vance’s knee. 

The children watched him with delighted 
interest, but Mrs. Pepperell made a careful pre- 
tence of not noticing as the old gentleman, with 
deprecatory glance in her direction, silently offered 
the trespasser a morsel of meat from his own fork. 

Demosthenes hooked it off daintily with one 
claw, and as silently disappeared. Mary and 
Marigold were charmed by this breach of discipline, 
and still more so when the tawny ears next ap- 
peared at Dick’s elbow, and he boldly and openly 
followed Mr. Vance’s example. 


74 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


He went further, and gently rubbed the yellow 
ears; whereupon the next move was a muffled 
thump on the under side of the table which made 
his teacup jingle, as the great heavy fellow 
scrambled up on his knees. 

Mary, who sat next him, could not repress a 
little giggle of pleasure at this, and Mossy’s 
mistress smiled austerely. 

‘‘Well I vow!” she ejaculated, addressing 
nobody in particular. “ How I’m ever going to 
teach that cat to behave — 1 ” but she made no 
further objection, and the deep hum of his purring 
made a gentle undertone to the conversation dur- 
ing the rest of the meal. 

Grandpa Vance was entertaining Marigold 
politely if a little laboriously, illustrating his story 
with a large folding map of the Peloponnesus, 
which it seemed he carried always in his pocket. 

Mary was talking with Mrs. Pepperell, and after 
answering a good many questions about herself 


GRAMPAVANCE 


75 


and her family she presently returned to the talk 
before supper. 

It was always noticeable that Mary took more 
interest in grown-up people and their affairs 
than Marigold did. No doubt it was because as 
an only child she had lived chiefly in their com- 
pany, while Marigold, in her Mary Murray years, 
was romping, working, and studying among the 
crowd of children in McGowan’s Lane. 

So it was with real sympathetic interest that 
Mary asked Mrs. Pepperell whether she had 
meant she would truly rather live in the country 
than in this nice place ; and Mrs. Pepperell, see- 
ing that the interest was real, answered as seri- 
ously as though she were speaking to Mary’s 
mother. 

‘'You better believe I would ! ” she said em- 
phatically. “ I’d go in a minute if we could find 
a real good chance. 

“ Mr. Pepperell he wants to get back on the land 


76 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


— he’d enjoy a sight better health if he could. He 
was born and brought up on a farm. 

“He’s a State of Maine man, — but we don’t 
need to go’s far off’s all that. All I want is a small 
place where I can raise my own garden-sauce and 
know what I’m eating — and keep a cow and 
know what I’m drinking, too ! 

“lam sick and tired of living where I can’t step 
foot off my own doorstep without stepping on the 
sidewalk. I’d rather have to hitch up and go to the 
village when I need a spool of thread.” 

“But aren’t you afraid you’d be lonesome?” 
Mary suggested gently. 

“ Well, I’d like to try being lonesome for a 
change, — it would be a good kind of lonesome ! ” 
declared Mrs. Pepperell with energy. 

“ I guess I could make out to get along without 
borrowing molasses or lending baking powder — 
and that’s about all that having near neighbors 
amounts to, as far as I see. I never was any 


GRAMPAVANCE 


77 


great of a hand for standing talking over the back 
fence when I’d ought to be hanging out the wash. 

No, it’s no use talking, I’ve got to live in a 
place where there’s room to swing a cat.” 

Mary involuntarily cast an alarmed glance in 
the direction of Mossy’s purr, and Mrs. Pepperell 
hastened to add — “ Not that I feel any call to 
swing a cat. I don’t know as it would do me any 
particular good — or the cat either. But I want 
room enough to — that’s all.” 

‘‘ And you’d have a nice pretty cow, like dear 
Mike — and a horse to go for the thread with,” 
mused Mary, pleased with the picture of country 
comfort. 

‘‘ M-h-m,” assented her hostess, who also saw 
the pleasant picture — ’nd probably a pig.” 

‘‘ And chickens,” Mary put in eagerly. We 
used to have chickens. Marigold and I ; and they 
were so interesting ! ” 

“ I’d admire to know ! ” returned Mrs. Pepperell 


78 


MARIGOLD^S WINTER 


in humorous surprise. Where’d you ever keep 
hens?’^ 

‘‘ In South Berket, last year/’ Mary answered. 
“ They were Marigold’s hens, really, but I used 
to help her feed them; and they laid the biggest 
brown eggs ! Why, Dick, only think ! That was 
how we saw you^ selling eggs. Isn’t it perfectly 
s’prising, how many things have happened just 
from Marigold’s keeping hens ? ” 

She turned, with pretty politeness, to explain 
to Mrs. Pepperell. 

“ We were going to sell the eggs, you see, the 
day that we got lost; and then Dick hid in the 
bushes and played he was shot, to make the other 
soldiers hunt for him — ” 

“ For pity’s sake ! ” interrupted Mrs. Pepperell, 
quite bewildered — ‘‘Is the child out of her 
head? ” and Dick, who had been listening to the 
conversation in silent amusement, came to the 
rescue and unravelled the tangle that Mary had 
made of her story. 


GRAMPAVANCE 


79 


It was his story, too, for did he not remember 
every minute of that eventful day when the young 
soldiers of the Ambulance Corps, going through 
their practice in the woods, had found the forlorn 
little pair of egg merchants with their basket, wet 
and frightened and lost ? 

It was true, as Mary had said, that many things 
had happened ; for that day had been the begin- 
ning of his friendship with the Merington family, 
and the most important things that had ever 
happened to him happened in consequence of 
that. 

Mrs. Pepperell was greatly interested in the 
story. 

‘‘ Well ! she said at the end, “ if that Marigold 
doesn't beat all ! " and she glanced over at un- 
conscious Marigold, absorbed in ‘‘ Grampa- 
vance's" classical tales. ‘‘Isn't she a case? I 
guess Mrs. Merington has her hands full, these 
days." 


80 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


The comment struck Mary as a doubtful compli- 
ment to her twin, but she did not quite know what 
it meant ; and while she was still considering it her 
thoughts were interrupted by a soft, round, tawny 
head which popped up suddenly and silently beside 
her chair. 

‘‘ Oh, here’s Mossy again ! ” she exclaimed, 
delighted. “ Mrs. Pepperell, mayn’t I give him 
just a little bit of a piece? I do love to see him 
take it off with his claw, so cunning ! ” 

‘‘Land, yes — go on,” said Mrs. Pepperell 
graciously ; “ you can’t spoil him any worse than 
what he is now; and all the exercise he gets is 
eating! Mossy’s a good name for that cat, for 
it’s a wonder the moss doesn’t grow on his back, 
same as an old turtle. But / didn’t name him,” 
she added — rather unnecessarily. 

When they rose from the table the children were 
astonished to see how dark the lamp-lit street 
looked from the window. The wintry sunset 


GRAMPAVANCE 


81 


red had almost faded, and night was coming 
fast. 

“ Oh, dear,” sighed Marigold, I don’t like it 
to be evening in the afternoon.” 

Dick was surprised, too, to find how late it was, 
and began to feel his responsibilities again. He 
hurried the children into their coats, and fumbled 
over the little gloves and furs like an anxious 
mother. 

Soon they were out in the red evening light, the 
sharp air pinching their nostrils, but feeling 
fresh and pleasant around their rosy little ears. 

Mrs. Pepperell stood in the open door, lamp 
in hand, mingling her messages to Mrs. Merington 
with hearty invitations to them all, Dick included, 
to come again soon ; and not until they had crossed 
the street and almost reached the corner did they 
hear her door close with a brisk bang. 

In the street-car going home the children were 
very quiet. The cold air and their lively exercise 


82 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


had made them sleepy, and as they sat snuggling 
up to Dick on either side, not even Mary, who 
could almost always talk, had much to say. 

She was half asleep when the car stopped at 
their street, and Marigold aroused herself from 
a revery that was very near a dream to murmur, 
“ A stadium is about two hundred yards. Grandpa 
says, — so he ran twenty-five miles without stop- 
ping. Could you do that, Dick? ” 

“ Certainly not ! ” said Dick decidedly, lifting 
her down from the step. “ I should take a car,” 
and the conductor, who knew all about the battle 
of Marathon, grinned as he rang the bell. 


CHAPTER VI 


dick’s dinner 

Dick said good night to the happy, tired children 
on the door-step, and went home. 

At least, he would have said he ‘‘ went home ” 
because it was the place where he lived; but 
I am afraid that was the only sense in which Mrs. 
Frost’s boarding-house could have been called 
“ home.” 

It was rather late for dinner when he arrived, 
but seeing as he passed the windows of the base- 
ment dining-room that some one was still at the 
table, it occurred to him that some little time had 
passed since Mrs. Pepperell’s very nice tea, and he 
might just as well have something more to eat, 
if anything was to be had. 

Skating is a fine thing for the appetite. 

83 


84 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


He found it was only Mrs. Belden at the table. 
She was always apt to come late to her meals, 
and finish them alone, at the long, disordered 
table. It did not seem a very cheerful way to eat 
dinner; but Mrs. Belden was not a very cheerful 
person, and nothing that she did seemed to make 
much difference. 

She had been living in Mrs. Frost’s boarding- 
house for about a year, and was understood to be 
a cousin or something to the landlady. 

It was also understood among the boarders 
that she paid, at least in part, for her board by 
making herself useful about the house. 

It had once or twice occurred to Dick that the 
sort of board they got was hardly worth being so 
very useful for, — for she seemed to be forever 
doing something, in a patient, dejected way, 
whenever he saw her. 

She was a worn, faded looking woman, with a 
quiet, low-spirited air as though nothing very 


DICK’S DINNER 


85 


pleasant had ever happened to her and she had 
not expected anything. 

Her soft, gray hair must have been pretty once, 
but she wore it brushed back plain and flat. Even 
her glasses drooped, like her shoulders, and her 
little faded, much- washed, drab shoulder-cape, 
tied with black ribbons at the throat, looked tired 
and depressed like its wearer. 

When Dick Saunders came swinging through 
the dim, narrow passage way into the dining-room, 
with a breezy greeting and the demand whether 
there was any dinner left, she started and drew 
her shoulders together nervously as though the 
November wind had rushed in with him. 

But she liked the cheery young fellow, and she 
answered his greeting with a smile of wistful 
pleasure in his fresh young strength and courage 
and good spirits. 

“ You look as though you enjoyed cold weather, 
Mr. Saunders,” she said, half reproachfully. 


86 


MARIGOLD^S WINTER 


Dick cast an investigating eye over the unin- 
viting table as he drew out his chair. 

So I do,” he said cheerfully. IVe had the 
jolliest kind of a time this afternoon, and I’m good 
and hungry ! ” (By this time he had honestly for- 
gotten Mrs. PepperelPs cake and quince pre- 
serves.) 

Mrs. Belden rose as he spoke, with a deprecating 
flutter. 

‘‘ Oh, don’t eat those cold things ! ” she said. 

I can get you something warm in just a minute.” 

He protested against her leaving her own dinner 
unfinished, but she had already disappeared ; and, 
knowing as well as she did how badly he was 
likely to fare, at this late hour, at the hands of the 
impatient table girl, he waited willingly and grate- 
fully for her return. 

She seemed to take a quiet pleasure in making 
him comfortable, and after arranging the small 
hot dishes around his plate and going back again 


DICK^S DINNER 


87 


for a fresh cup of coffee, she sat down to sip at her 
own lukewarm cup and inquire wistfully what he 
had been doing with himself, to look so fresh and 
lively. 

He told her, while he despatched his dinner as 
though Mrs. PepperelFs early tea had never been, 
the story of the afternoon’s adventures. And 
Mrs. Belden listened, and asked questions, and 
actually laughed at Mary’s mishaps and Dick’s 
anxieties, and seemed altogether brighter and 
more interested than he had ever seen her before. 

She even seemed better-looking, or so he thought ; 
but perhaps it was the first time he had ever really 
looked at her. If she weren’t so floppy and droopy, 
and wouldn’t wear that irritating thing around 
her neck all the time, she would look quite nice, 
he thought. Why didn’t she wear pink, like that 
silky, cobwebby thing Mrs. Merington had on 
once? 

Dear me ! ” sighed Mrs. Belden — “ How 


88 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


it brings back old times, to hear you tell it. I was 
a great hand for skating when I was a girl.” 

The remark struck Dick as familiar, as though 
she had already said it once — and then he recol- 
lected that it was not she, but a very different 
person, who had said just the same words an 
hour or two before ; and he smiled as he thought 
of the contrast between the two women — Mrs. 
Pepperell, with her abrupt, vigorous movements 
and loud, decisive voice, and gentle, melancholy 
Mrs. Belden. 

What different girls they must have been, in the 
long ago days when they both loved skating. 

“ Did you live in the country then? ” he asked, 
curious to see how far the resemblance would go. 

Oh, yes,” she answered in her pensive, 
spiritless way. ‘‘ I was born and brought up in 
the country.” 

Still the same words, in the oddly different voice ! 
Dick was getting interested in the coincidence. 


DICK’S DINNER 


89 


And would you like to go back there again? ” 
he asked. 

But at that point the likeness to Mrs. Pepperell 
suddenly ceased. 

‘‘Mercy, no!” Mrs. Belden exclaimed; and 
she pulled her little drab shawl around her shoul- 
ders with a positive shiver. “ No, I have had 
enough of the country to last me the rest of my 
life. It makes me feel cold and lonesome now, to 
think of the winters on the farm where I lived, 
year in, year out, never seeing anybody or going 
anywhere.” 

“ I see,” said Dick sympathetically, — “ kind 
of place where you have to hitch up and drive to 
the village when you want a spool of -thread?” 

“ Yes, that exactly describes it,” agreed Mrs. 
Belden with a rueful smile. 

“ It was all of two miles to the post-office, 
and often we wouldn’t see a soul but the butcher 
from one week’s end to another. 


90 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


I am quiet in my tastes — I never did care 
much for visiting or neighboring — but I do like 
to know there are people around, even if I don’t 
see them. I suppose it is because I am naturally 
timid ; — my brothers always called me a ’fraid- 
cat,” she added with another sad little smile. 

And Dick, remembering bleak, lonely, hillside 
farms that he had seen, thought he could under- 
stand why Mrs. Pepperell liked the country and 
Mrs. Belden did not. 

At the same time, glancing about him at their 
unattractive surroundings, he could not help won- 
dering if she were really any happier having ex- 
changed it for the dingy city boarding-house and 
the monotonous, tiresome life of “ making herself 
useful.” 

Most likely, though, he thought, she was simply 
making the best of it — she had had no choice. 
For although she did not speak very freely of her 
past life, — indeed it was a rare and dij3icult 


DICK’S DINNER 


91 


thing for the shy, silent woman to speak of it at 
all, — he could easily put together from the hints 
she gave as they talked, the old sad story of strug- 
gle and discouragement: the old father, helpless 
with paralysis for years, — the farm rented and 
neglected, — the brother who in his turn had 
taken up the burden, and at last, disheartened 
and out of patience, had given it all up and moved 
West with his family. 

Then, when the long struggle had ended in 
failure and the old home was broken up, poor 
Mrs. Belden, the widowed daughter who had 
cared for her father many years, had no other 
recourse but to make her home with cousin 
Sarah ” the landlady (of whom Dick said grimly 
to himself, he was glad she was not his cousin 
Sarah). 

Why, the poor old soul ! There doesn’t 
seem to be anything cheerful about her, — past 
present, or future,” he thought ; and as he finished 


92 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


his pie and coffee leisurely he did his good-natured 
best to cheer her up a bit, by telling her all the 
funny stories he could recall of Mary ’n’ Mary’s 
adventures since he had first known that adven- 
turous pair. And the poor lady did brighten up 
considerably, and seemed to take a pleased inter- 
est in the little sisters. 

Dear little things, I’d like to see them,” she 
said. “ I have missed my brother’s children 
terribly since they moved away ; and I guess they 
miss ‘ Aunt Emily,’ too,” she added, sighing, as 
she rose and made way for the impatient table 
girl, who had been openly trying for some time 
to get rid of them. 

Mrs. Belden hastened apologetically to pacify 
her by helping to clear away, while Dick said 
good evening and mounted the three flights of 
stairs to his bedroom, pondering on the widely 
contrasting tastes of Mrs. Belden and Mrs. Pep- 
perell, and “ the difference there is in different 
folks.” 


DICK’S DINNER 


93 


For several days the pathetic little history 
haunted him at intervals. The sight of Mrs. 
Belden’s worn, patient face as he met her in the 
halls or at table would bring the vision of her 
comfortless lot in life before his mind with un- 
pleasant distinctness. 

To get rid of it — since there was really noth- 
ing else to be done — he fell back on the children’s 
favorite game of ‘‘ s’posing,” and in imagination 
he established Mrs. Belden quite delightfully 
on a big, prosperous farm close to the village, 
with a large, cheerful household, including plenty 
of children for her to be Aunt Emily ” to, and a 
comfortable, sunny house, with a furnace in it. 

The furnace was added as an afterthought, 
to get rid of that limp, dejected little crocheted 
shawl which irritated him so unreasonably. 

This pretty castle in the air afforded much 
relief to Dick’s own feelings, but at the same time 
he was regretfully aware that it was no practical 


94 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


benefit to Mrs. Belden herself, who continued 
to wear her little cape and to look chilly and 
depressed. 

The only thing he seemed able to do for her was 
to be as cheery and friendly as he could when 
they met, and this he did. 

Perhaps it really did her more good than he 
guessed. People who are naturally cheerful and 
buoyant do not always realize that sharing their 
cheerfulness with sad or quiet people is like letting 
in the sunshine, or giving them a seat near the 
fire. 

But by “ sharing ” I don’t mean merely showing 
your own good spirits, by being cheerful yourself, 
— that doesn’t do much more good than showing 
the baby your stick of candy. You know what he 
would say to that, don’t you? 

If you wish to make him happy you must give 
him a piece of it ; and that was what Dick did, — 
for he was good-hearted as well as good-humored. 


DICK^S DINNER 


95 


He would stop a minute after dinner to tell her 
a story — lend her a newspaper — ask about her 
neuralgia; — all little things that cost him not a 
moment’s trouble, yet brightened the evening 
for her, and made her sober face a little brighter 
in response. He really ‘‘ shared ” his cheerfulness. 

In return, Mrs. Belden liked Dick. She was 
grateful for his friendliness and in little quiet 
ways that he never noticed she tried to repay it 
by looking after his comfort. 

She saw to it that his books and papers were 
undisturbed, and his room restored to such order 
and comfort as might be, after the weekly hurri- 
cane of sweeping had blown through it. She 
opened his register (it was a frugal house) before 
he came home at night; and when he was late 
to dinner nowadays he never had to eat cold pota- 
toes or gravy. 


CHAPTER VII 


FUDGE 

It was Ellen’s business to answer the door-bell, 
but when the door opened, in rather tardy response 
to Dick’s ring, it disclosed, instead of Ellen, a 
very small maid, clothed all in dignity and demure 
politeness. 

Why, hello ! ” said Dick — “ Mrs. Merington 
has a new girl ! ” and at the same moment the 
new maid recognized him, dropped all her dignity 
and threw herself upon him with a cry of joy. 

‘‘ It’s Dick ! How lovely you came just this 
time! Yes, we’re the girl — Mamma is out, and 
all the girls are out too, only think 1 and we are 
keeping house.” 

Here Marigold appeared from the back of the 
hall, and echoed Mary’s welcome. 

96 


FUDGE 


97 


“ How nice you should happen to come this 
afternoon ! ’' she said. “ Come right down and 
make fudge.” 

And why,” queried Dick, pulling off his 
overcoat deliberately, while they danced before 
him, — ‘‘ why is it such a particularly fortunate 
time for me to show up? — and how does it 
happen you are deserted like this? — and what^s 
fudge ? ” 

‘‘ Why, you see this is Ellen^s and Helda’s 
proper day to be out,” Mary began ; and 
mamma had only just gone away when Maggie 
got a letter her mother was sick, — ” Marigold 
put in, — “ so now everybody’s gone and we are 
all alone ! ” they finished in concert. 

‘‘ Who is all alone? ” asked Dick in fresh sur- 
prise, for at that moment a distinct but distant 
shriek arose seemingly from the back of the house 
or the depths below it. 

‘‘That’s nothing — just Gilbert’s burned his 


98 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


finger again, prob’ly,’’ said Marigold coolly, and 
Mary added, in explanation, Dorothy and Gil- 
bert came, just as we were getting lonesome, — 
wasn’t it lucky? and we are making fudge.” 

‘‘ And what is fudge ? ” asked Dick once more — 
but both the children were talking at once as they 
pulled him through the hall and down stairs toward 
the kitchen ; so he waited to find out. 

Whatever it was it evidently required unusual 
precautions, for both little girls were adorned 
with large towels, pinned over their frocks in the 
manner of bib-aprons. 

You see we had to come down here for the 
stove,” Marigold was explaining, — “ because 
mamma doesn’t wish us to use the chafing dish. 
I bHieve she said it made too much work for Ellen 
in the dining-room, and besides, we’d blow our- 
selves up. So we thought we’d just go where the 
stove and dishes are and be comf’table.” 

At this point they ushered him into the kitchen ; 


FUDGE 


99 


and as he glanced at the stove and table it occurred 
to Dick that even by this arrangement there would 
be work for Ellen or somebody else in the 
kitchen by and by. Four amateur cooks had been 
busy there, with the usual result of chaos. 

Mary introduced the guests. 

‘‘You remember Dorothy and Gilbert, Dick,^^ 
she said. “ They were at my birthday party in 
South Berket — Why, no, you don't,’’ she 
caught herself up. You were not there 1 It was 
when we didn’t but just know you.” 

Dorothy was a pretty little gipsy, perhaps a 
year older than the twins, with an immense bow of 
scarlet ribbon on her hair. She had a slightly 
care-worn, anxious expression which suggested 
that she felt a good deal of responsibility for her 
brother’s behavior. 

Gilbert’s expression suggested repudiation of 
that responsibility. He was somewhat older than 
Dorothy. *, , ^ 


100 


MARIGOLD^S WINTER 


The fudge was already on the stove, and Gilbert 
seemed to be the person in charge of it. 

He was stirring it vigorously in a saucepan over 
the fire, and for this important business had put 
on Ellen^s pretty waitresses apron, which she wore 
to serve dinner, and which he had discovered in 
some lawless foray in the pantry. It had ruffles 
over the shoulders and embroidery across the 
front, and pleased his taste better than Maggie^s 
gingham apron which had been offered him. 

Dorothy wore the gingham. 

A clean towel was politely tendered Dick, but 
he decided to ‘‘ be company ’’ and look on — still 
hoping by dint of careful observation to learn in 
time what “ fudge might be. 

It had chocolate in it, — for there were scattered 
crumbs of chocolate all over the table as well as in 
two dishes. 

It also had sugar — for that was on the floor, 
crunching under every, footstep. 


FUDGE 


101 


There was milk in a pitcher and a cup, so 
presumably also in the fudge; and there was 
a plate of butter, — but this was not in the fudge, 
as a scream from Dorothy presently announced. 

Oh, Gilbert, stop — you’ve left out the butter ! 
You’ll make an awful mess of it ! Oh, dear, I wish 
you would let me do it.” 

Gilbert turned, startled by her cry, still uncon- 
sciously holding his spoon, which left a trail of 
glistening brown drops over the polished range 
and the clean-scrubbed oil-cloth. 

The fudge was now on the floor as well as on the 
stove ; and the cook seemed slightly vexed. 

“ Oh, shucks ! ” he said. “ Don’t holler till 
you’re hurt. The butter doesn’t go in till the other 
things have boiled down.” 

Dorothy differed from him, and a lively argu- 
ment followed, during which the other things 
continued to boil down and the butter waited. 

As Gilbert was in possession of the pan his sister 


102 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


had to give in, but she did so unwillingly. ‘‘ Gilbert 
always thinks he knows everything best,” she 
complained. 

“ I see,” said Dick soothingly. This stuff 
is like a Welsh rabbit. Every fellow thinks he is 
the only one in the crowd who really knows 
anything about it. And then there is generally a 
row, and the rabbit petrifies while they argue.” 

“ Yes, that’s just the way with fudge too,” 
assented Gilbert. Girls think they know how 
just because they’re girls. At the same time,” — 
he was stirring carefully now, and watching the 
fragrant bubbling brown mass critically, — as 
this stuff is now about done, I don’t mind ad- 
mitting that I forgot the butter. Bring it on, 
Doffy,” and as his sister complied in speechless 
indignation he condescendingly explained : ‘‘ The 
trouble is, this kind of fudge is too simple for me 
to keep my mind on. Where I shine is in fancy 
fudge, with nuts and all sorts of extra fixings 
in it.” 


FUDGE 


103 


By this time all the children were hovering over 
the pan, watching and discussing the state of the 
fudge, laughing and exclaiming and bothering 
the cook. Testing ’’ is an extremely important 
stage in the making of fudge, and you can eat a 
good deal in that way alone. 

Dick watched the merry group, smiling and 
enjoying it all; until a sudden thought which 
had troubled him several times that day came 
back into his mind again, bringing with it a little 
pang and driving away the smile. 

It was the recollection of Mrs. Belden’s face 
as it had looked at breakfast, — worried and 
despondent. He was quite sure, too, that her eyes 
were red. 

Evidently the poor lady was in new trouble of 
some kind; and really, thought Dick, she didn’t 
need any more. It was quite enough to be cousin 
Sarah’s ” poor relation. 

Perhaps it was just the contrast between the 


104 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


careless gayety of these lively young folk and the 
older woman’s dull, cheerless life that had re- 
minded him of her at that minute. At any rate, 
once the thought had come it stayed, damping 
his enjoyment of the frolic ; and for a little while 
he looked on with a grave face, taking no part 
in it. 

Presently Marigold came over to him, bearing 
a teaspoon and a glass of water. The bottom 
of the glass was covered with delicious gummy 
drops, dripped from the testing spoon. 

As she fished them out daintily and fed him with 
her teaspoon. Marigold took the opportunity to 
snuggle up against his shoulder in a cosy little- 
sister fashion, and whisper in his ear. 

“ What is the matter, Dick ? What makes you 
look like that ? Aren’t you having fun ? ” 

He put his arm around her with a big-brother 
squeeze. 

Good little girl ! ” he said. I was only 


FUDGE 


105 


thinking,’’ and then the anxious kindness of the 
bright little face gave him a new idea, and on the 
impulse of it he spoke. 

How would she like to give him a little of the 
candy to take to a poor old lady who never had 
fun like this — who loved little girls and hadn’t 
any to make fudge for her ? 

Marigold’s bright face grew brighter in a flash, 
with interest and pity, and her eager questions 
soon drew the attention of the others. 

Dick knew the warm little hearts of ‘‘ Mary 
’n’ Mary,” and was sure of their ready response 
when he made his suggestion ; but he was a little 
surprised as well as pleased to see how quickly 
all the children forgot even the absorbing interest 
of making the fudge in the greater interest and 
pleasure of giving it away. 

Of course the poor lady should have some, — 
she should have a lot of it. Marigold had a lovely 
pink box up-stairs which would hold an awjul 


106 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


lot ; and the larger of the two large buttered pans 
which stood waiting to receive the fudge was 
immediately allotted to Mrs. Belden. ‘‘ This 
pan will be quite as much as we ought to eat,” 
said Mary with an air of maternal prudence. 

For a moment, diverted by the new interest, 
Gilbert had forgotten to stir the candy; now, 
suddenly recalling that it was just at the critical 
point, he turned hurriedly to seize the spoon. 

Haste makes waste.” Instead of closing on 
the handle his fingers only brushed and knocked 
it into the boiling candy. He made a wild grab 
for it, burned two fingers, and howled. 

The fudge was now on the stove, the floor, and 
the cook. 

Instantly the three girls were around him, ex- 
claiming, inquiring and pitying. Gilbert, standing 
on one leg with his fingers in his mouth , didn’t 
seem able to express himself at all. 

He had cried wolf ” before; but it was a real 
burn this time. 


FUDGE 


107 


Still, it was not a time to neglect the fudge, 
which was now quite done, and liable to catch 
on ’’ or sugar off at any moment. So while Mari- 
gold flew for the ammonia bottle to bathe the smart- 
ing fingers, and Mary for a rag to tie them up, the 
practical-minded Dorothy got her chance at last 
to take possession of the saucepan. 

She soon wearied, however, of the vigorous 
beating which was necessary while the heavy 
mass cooled and stiffened, and was glad to accept 
the help of Dick’s strong hands. 

As he stood at the table stirring patiently, he 
surveyed the general confusion with a quizzical 
eye. 

I think I am beginning to understand this 
fudge business,” he remarked. Rather an ex- 
citing sort of sport, isn’t it ? 

And I now recall the form of your invitation. 
It was, if I am not mistaken, to ‘ come down and 
make fudge.’ At the time I overlooked its signifi- 


108 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


cance and thoughtlessly assumed that ‘ making’ 
implied also ‘ eating ’ fudge. But I now see that 
was a mistake, due to my inexperience. The 
game is in the making.” 

Oh, you are going to eat it all right enough, — 
don’t you make any mistake about that! ” re- 
torted Gilbert, nursing his injured fingers. D’you 
suppose I am spending my valuable time and 
mixing my complexion into this recipe to have it 
wasted? ” 

“ I am not finding any fault with your com- 
plexion, — it is all right when it is in the right 
place,” Dick returned ; “ but I am not a can- 
nibal — 

“ Nor a Chinaman ! ” he added hastily. “ Keep 
this cat out of the candy, somebody 1 ” 

This time there were three screams, from all the 
girls in chorus, and a rush to the table. 

She was the cook’s cat — a small, thin, active 
person, with rough ashy-gray fur; but she had 



<“OH, YOU ARE GOING TO EAT IT ALL RIGHT,’ RETORTED 
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FUDGE 


109 


large intelligent ears, and a resounding purr. It 
was the latter which at last betrayed her quiet in- 
vestigations on the table at his elbow while Dick^s 
attention was elsewhere. 

Dorothy snatched up the pan, and Marigold the 
cat, while Mary inspected her with tender care to 
see if she had burned her nose — for in his haste 
to avert disaster Dick had rapped her with the 
spoon; and the fudge was now on the stove, the 
floor, the cook, and the cat. 

‘‘ But I saw her outside on the window-sill 
not five minutes ago,’’ Dorothy said petulantly. 

What in the world did you let her in again for? ” 

“ Why, she wanted to come,” said Mary simply. 
‘‘That was what she got up there for; it’s her 
way of asking. But she isn’t hurt, so it’s all right.” 

Dorothy sniffed. “Well, then, if the cat is 
’tended to, we better ’tend to the candy,” she 
suggested. “ It must be ready to harden by — 
oh, yeSy Mr. Saunders, let me take it, quick ! ” 


110 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


The fudge was at exactly the right point, and 
poured out beautifully, spreading over the pans 
in a smooth, glossy sheet. 

Mrs. Belden’s pan was filled first, because the 
first would be smoothest and handsomest; then 
Dorothy emptied the saucepan, and thriftily 
scraped the scraps that clung to its sides, into the 
second pan, while Dick and Mary watched the 
process with rapt attention. 

Marigold had returned to the deserted Gilbert, 
and was busily engaged in binding up his hurts 
and tenderly sopping them with the comforting 
ammonia — Gilbert, of course, enjoying her serv- 
ices while he laughed at her for making such a 
fuss ” over him. 

Suddenly an outcry of consternation from the 
other three, mingled with the clatter and bang 
of tinware, made them both jump, and they 
turned to face a new calamity — the most calam- 
itous one yet ! 


FUDGE 


111 


The fudge was now on the stove, the floor, 
the cook, the cat, and the company ! In fact the 
only place where it was not was in Mrs. Belden^s 
pan, which lay upside down under the table. 


CHAPTER VIII 


DITTO 

Confusion and dismay reigned for a little 
while, then. 

Dick was rubbing off his coat sleeve with Mary^s 
apron, — Dorothy was trying to explain how it 
had happened, — and the rest were asking ques- 
tions and lamenting the catastrophe; while all 
stared in grievous disappointment at the half- 
solid, half-crumbled wreckage strewn over the 
floor. 

But Gilbert’s regrets were quickly swallowed 
up in rejoicing that it was Dorothy who had done 
it, and not he ! 

This reflection made him even cheerful, and 
presently he was down “ on all fours,” examining 

the wreck with a view to salvage. 

112 


DITTO 


113 


Mary and Marigold, mistaking his intentions, 
and mindful of their duty as hostesses, begged him 
not to bother about that, — they would clean it 
up by and by. 

“Why, I ain’t cleaning it up, — Tm picking 
it up,” protested Gilbert, from under the table. 
“You don’t mean to say you would throw away 
all this good chocolate; you wouldn’t let Mr. 
Saunders’s poor old lady lose her fudge just for 
a little thing like that, would you ? 

“ Now just you hold on until I scoop it up and 
dust it off, and who’s going to know the difference ? 
She won’t. It isn’t hurt a bit ! ” 

“ All right,” said Marigold calmly, — “ then 
weHl eat it, and send the other pan to Dick’s 
poor lady.” 

“ And then there won’t be any difference for 
her not to know.” (Mary’s thoughts were 
sometimes clearer than her way of expressing 
them.) 


114 


MARIGOLD^S WINTER 


Gilbert wrinkled his forehead at them for a mo- 
ment, and then grinned. 

“ YouVe got me there ! ” he admitted frankly. 
“ But it is no fair, the way you twins always 
stand together. It’s two against one, every time.” 

‘‘ Twins are not two, — they are just the same 
as one,” said Mary with gentle decision. 

‘‘Are they?” returned Gilbert in pleased sur- 
prise. “ That’s good, because then of course they 
get one share of the fudge. Say, there’s a silver 
lining to this cloud anyhow — we get the biggest 
pan, after all.” 

But this attracted the attention of Dorothy, 
who was engaged in cutting the remaining panful 
into little squares, drawing her knife slowly and 
carefully across and across. 

Intent on this, she had not noticed her brother’s 
proceedings; but at his last words she whirled 
about, knife in hand, filled with horror. 

“ My goodness gracious ! ” cried the scanda- 


DITTO 


115 


lized sister. Do you suppose we are going to 
eat that, right off the floor? Gilbert Brooke, 
stop 1 

“ Why, this floor’s clean — it’s the cleanest 
floor I ever saw ! ” pleaded Gilbert, still invisible 
and busy with his spoon. “ Say, I don’t want to 
waste all that work — stir my arms off and ruin 
my best white apron, all for nothing ! ” 

Well, Dorothy, perhaps we might take just 
the top-part ” suggested Mary, hopefully, anxious 
to save the feelings of both Gilbert and his sister 
if possible (and at the same time the fudge). 
‘‘ Can’t you pick up all but just what’s right on 
the floor, Gilbert ? ” 

She dropped on her knees and poked her head 
cautiously under the table beside him. “ Oh, 
no, no, no ! ” her muffled voice came back to the 
others — Don’t, Gilbert, — please let me ! 
You are scraping — ” 

There followed an audible scuffle for the spoon; 


116 


MARIGOLD^S WINTER 


and Gilbert, worsted, sat up, bumping his head 
against the table. 

“ Taking up the floor with it, was he ? ’’ in- 
quired Dick. Never mind, this will be a brand 
new variety of ‘ fancy ’ fudge. He said he liked 
something extra in it, — why won’t linoleum 
do?” 

Gilbert grunted scornfully, and made no reply. 
But he ate a large piece of fudge, to make his posi- 
tion in the matter perfectly plain. 

Mary, who had carefully examined each piece 
as it was gathered up, nibbled a bit to keep him 
company; and Marigold, after a searching in- 
spection of the spotless floor, followed their ex- 
ample. 

When the question came to a vote Dick gave 
his voice frankly and decidedly in favor of the 
fudge ; so Dorothy was left alone. 

But Dorothy loved chocolate, — and she was 
only twelve years old. It was not long before 


DITTO 


117 


she had proved the truth of Gilbert’s assurance; 
‘‘ Shut your eyes and you won’t know which pan is 
which.” 

They piled the broken pieces of candy neatly 
on the prettiest plate they could find, and even 
with their eyes wide open those sweet-loving 
youngsters seemed to find no great difl&culty in 
disposing of it. 

The pretty pink box was snugly packed, but 
even when it was brimful ” nearly half the second 
pan of fudge remained, — an unexpected pleas- 
ure,” as Gilbert remarked, beginning on it hope- 
fully. 

‘‘ Well, but look here ! ” remonstrated Dick 
in rather belated alarm, noticing for the first time 
that the plate was empty. “Are you sure you 
know how much fudge is good for you? Perhaps 
you’d better not eat any more until Mrs. Mering- 
ton gets home — then you’ll be on the safe side, 
an)nvay.” 


118 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


“ Oh, yes, we are going to save some jor 
mamma,” the twins assured him. 

They tucked the box carefully into his overcoat 
pocket, charging him to remember that it was 
in the right-hand one, and then just as he was 
taking leave Dick happened to recollect what he 
had come for — to ask your mother if we can 
go skating Saturday, if the ice lasts till then.” 

They promised joyfully to ask her, and Dick 
went home with the pink box of fudge to surprise 
Mrs. Belden. 

Hope ‘ Aunt Emily ’ likes chocolate,” he 
thought, as he let himself in and felt his way down 
the basement stairs in the twilight, in search of 
her. ‘‘ An)rway, it ought to chirk her up a bit, to 
be remembered.” 

It did please Aunt Emily,” — oh, it pleased 
her more than even kind-hearted Dick had 
guessed; but the effect was not precisely what 
you could call “ chirking up.” Instead, she scared 


DITTO 


119 


him dreadfully at first, for he certainly thought 
she was going to cry ! 

Pretty little kindnesses of this sort had been 
very rare in the poor woman’s life, and for a minute 
she was almost overcome ; but she made a brave 
effort to control herself (perhaps she saw the 
panic in Dick’s face), and when he described the 
candy-making she really laughed, quite heartily, 
and seemed to like her present all the more for 
the sake of its mishaps. 

They had quite a friendly chat over it and other 
things while Mrs. Belden was setting the long 
tables for the boarders’ dinner, and Dick warmed 
his toes and fingers over the stingy little register 
in the comer. 

He did not dare to ask her what the matter 
was with her — he was afraid she might begin to 
cry again ; but from one or two things she said he 
gathered the trouble was about money — a debt 
to pay, and nothing to pay with, unless by some 
other sacrifice. 


120 


MARIGOLD’S AVINTER 


Poor Mrs. Belden seemed completely discour- 
aged. ‘‘ This is a hard world for women, Mr. 
Saunders,” she said bitterly. 

But then she put aside the thought of her own 
troubles, and returned to the pleasanter topic 
of the dear little girls who had sent her the candy. 
She made him describe their looks and ways — 
which he did with some difficulty — and said 
she almost felt as if she knew them, bless their 
little hearts. 

So, on the whole, Dick felt that his attempt to 
cheer her up had been a success, and he was all 
the more glad that he had thought of it when 
he saw how great was her need of a little cheering. 

Yes, it was a hard world, for poor widows, he 
thought; and yet it was a brave, cheerful world 
enough for strong, courageous, young fellows — 
and a beautiful world for happy, cherished, little 
girls of eleven years. “ I wish there were some 
way to even things up a little more,” he was think- 


DITTO 


121 


ing rather sadly as he pulled off his overcoat in 
his own room. 

As he flung the coat over a chair it thumped 
against the back, and he picked it up again, 
wondering what he had left in the pockets as heavy 
as that. 

He found it, in the left-hand pocket, — a little 
blue box, as pretty as Mrs. Belden’s, though not 
half as large, — and it was tightly packed with 
neat little squares of fudge, in which he easily 
recognized a portion of the share to be saved for 
mamma. 

‘‘ That blessed little pair ! ” he murmured, 
smiling affectionately at the box, as though he too 
felt “ chirked up.’’ It really does do a fellow 
good.” 

I do not know whether he meant the fudge or 
something else; but I do know that he ate more 
fudge than was good for him before he went to bed. 

The second lesson in skating was as delightful 


122 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


as the first had been, and the children’s enthusiasm 
was so great they would gladly have claimed every 
spare moment of Dick’s time for the rest of the 
winter in the same way, had the weather allowed. 

They called again on ‘‘ Grampavance ” — a 
shorter visit, this time — and also on Mrs. Pep- 
perell and Demosthenes. 

As they all talked together, warming their 
tingling feet and hands around the big stove, with 
its comfortable smell of hot iron and polish, Mary, 
whose interest in the subject had been serious 
enough to last over, bethought her to ask Mrs. 
Pepperell whether her husband had yet found 
a farm to suit him. 

“ Land, no ! ” said Mrs. Pepperell, with a sigh 
as emphatic as her language. 

“ He keeps on looking at everything he can hear 
of, — he’s up country now, to see a place he heard 
tell about, but I don’t expect much from it. 

“ This is a poor time of year to go farm-hunting 


DITTO 


123 


anyway ; we^d ought to have begun on it last sum- 
mer.’^ 

Then seeing the troubled sympathy in the earnest 
little face, she added in a livelier tone, “ But 
there ! I ain’t losing any sleep over it, — so don’t 
you. Who knows but somebody will give me a 
farm for Christmas,” and the sensitive little face 
smiled again, vaguely reassured. 

Later, as they were saying good-by, Mrs. Pep- 
perell jokingly bade her be sure, if she should hear 
of a farm that anybody wanted to give away, to 
let her know. 

‘‘ Oh, yes, I will, certainly ! ” said Mary earnestly, 
though with a little smile for the joke, and 
I wish I could give you one for Christmas, Mrs. 
Pepperell.” 

Bless your heart, I believe you would, too,” 
said Mrs. Pepperell heartily. Well, good-by — 
tell your mother I’d admire to see her. Good-by, 
Marigold. Good evening, Mr. Saunders.” 


124 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


Alas for pleasant plans and expectations ! That 
week the snow fell heavily, and there was an end 
of skating, for the time at least. 

Mr. Saunders devoted his leisure to other en- 
gagements, or to the studies which he faithfully 
kept up; while Mary and Marigold were less 
disappointed than they might have been had they 
not been so very busy, by this time, with getting 
ready for Christmas. 

It would be their second Christmas together, 
and the newness of the pleasure of doing it all — 
planning, sewing, shopping — in company with 
a dear twin sister, had not at all worn off. It 
doubled all the delights of Christmas preparations. 


CHAPTER IX 


LOST, MARY 

About a week before Christmas it happened 
that Dick Saunders, having a business errand 
to do, had left the office early in the afternoon and 
was making his way across the city, much ham- 
pered in his progress by the crowds of Christmas 
shoppers who filled the streets. 

It was a dark, cloudy day, with a raw chill in 
the air, hinting of coming snow ; the kind of day 
which, if one is a little blue to begin with, makes 
one a little bluer, unless he takes care. 

Dick had been a little blue to begin with. 

It was a very unusual state of mind for him, — 
his spirits were not easily depressed. 

Perhaps he was a little tired, from the steady 

pull of work and study ; or perhaps the general air 
126 


126 


MARIGOLD^S WINTER 


of holiday bustle and gayety in the streets made 
him feel a little solitary. 

Dick had plenty of friends and acquaintances, 
for he had a friendly, social nature himself, and 
made friends easily, — but they were not of the 
kind that plan little surprises to put in your stock- 
ing, and lie in wait for you in the morning, to be 
the first to say ‘‘Merry Christmas!’^ — not, in 
short, of his own family and household. 

He had never been in the habit of giving or 
receiving gifts, so that great special pleasure of the 
weeks before Christmas was unknown to him. 

But besides this there was something else, 
which made him feel that the “ Christmas cheer ’’ 
of song and story was almost a mockery. 

The lively bustle of the “ holiday trade ” re- 
minded him, as the children’s candy frolic had 
done, by sheer force of contrast, of poor despondent 
Mrs. Belden, and her difficulties. Why should 
some people be making all this fuss about having 


LOST, MARY 


127 


an extra good time, when other people were 
having an extra bad one? 

Since the night of her half-confidence about her 
money-worries, the thought of Mrs. Belden always 
made him uncomfortable and impatient, between 
the wish that he could help her and the conscious- 
ness that he couldn’t, and on this chilly, disagree- 
able afternoon, as he slowly forced his way through 
the thickening crowd (being a little blue to begin 
with), his thoughts naturally chose the most cheer- 
less and depressing subject to dwell on, and dwelt 
on it persistently. 

Dick was, in fact, decidedly glum.” 

His most direct road lay through the heart 
of the shopping district, and he had unthinkingly 
taken it as usual. 

It would have been better for his chances to 
accomplish his errand, to have gone a mile farther 
around ; for as he came into the region of short and 
narrow streets where the great department stores 


128 


MARIGOLD^S WINTER 


were clustered, the crowds became denser at each 
step he took, until at last, in the neighborhood of 
the biggest store of all, the sidewalks were so full 
that his choice lay simply between pushing his 
way roughly, by main strength, through the 
solid mass (chiefly of women and children) or 
merely keeping his place in it and moving as it 
moved. 

Neither of these methods suited him, however, 
and he still strove impatiently and unsuccessfully 
to find a middle course between them. 

A holiday crowd moves slowly, and Dick, 
wedged in and helpless, found his rate of progress 
extremely tedious. 

As he neared the biggest store of all, he caught 
sight of the clock in front of it, and found to his 
disgust that he was already too late for the errand 
he had set out on. It was simply no use to struggle 
longer to push ahead; the business would have 
to wait until to-morrow. 


LOST, MARY 


129 


This was vejcatious enough, and it strengthened 
his general disapproval of the holiday business; 
but at the same time it relieved his immediate 
anxiety, and the strained effort of watching for 
chances to dodge around and squeeze past others, 
to gain a foot or two at a time. 

He gave it up in a sort of sulky resignation, and 
moved slowly along in the press, careful only to 
keep his hat from being knocked off, his feet from 
being trodden on, and himself from being crowded 
bodily off the curbstone into the gutter. 

When people get into a temper where they 
think everybody else in the world very foolish, 
you know they are apt to call it being philosophical : 
Dick was fast getting to be quite a philosopher — 
of that kind. 

In his own private mind he described his cheer- 
ful, pushing swarm of neighbors as ten thousand 
lunatics,’^ and he wished they would all go home, 
and let him have the money they were wasting on 


130 


MARIGOLD^S WINTER 


Christmas presents, to pay that vaguely haunting 
debt of poor “ Aunt Emily’s.” 

Oh, there is no knowing how philosophical 
Dick might have grown if his thoughts had not 
been suddenly interrupted. 

He had nearly passed the biggest store when he 
became all at once aware of a very curious sensa- 
tion in his left hand, pinned down at his side by 
the pressure of the crowd. 

A very small hand, in a very soft glove, had been 
thrust inside his own, and was clutching it with 
frantic tightness! 

He turned his head and tried to look downward 
to see what this strange thing might mean, — but 
his glance was stopped half-way; for down there 
just below his shoulder his eyes met a pair of 
sweet gray eyes, in a little pale face with a pointed 
chin, framed in a wide, furry, gray blue hat 
and fluffy, silvery fur. 

Mary Merington — of all people — in this 
crush! 







T'-v 


fii 








•*•••- ' 


V 


“‘OH, PLEASE HOLD ON TO ME ! ’ ” 




LOST, MARY 


131 


The little pale face was frightened, and eager, 
and glad, — all three at once ; and her voice was 
all three also, as she cried breathlessly, “Oh, 
Dick — dear Dick, I am so glad ! Oh, please hold 
on to me ! ’’ 

Already the surging and shifting of the crowd 
was forcing them apart and the small soft glove 
clung despairingly to his fingers. But with a 
determined effort Dick wrenched himself half- 
around and somehow managed to get his strong 
right arm about the slender little figure, holding it 
fast against his side. Then he glanced around 
and past her questioningly. “ Where’s the rest — 
where’s Marigold ? ” he asked. 

The question was natural, — if one twin were 
here it followed as a matter of course that the 
other one could not be far off, — but Mary 
answered, still in a breathless, bewildered way, 
“ I don’t know, — I’m lost, — I’ve lost them ! 
I am all alone, and I don’t know what to do ! ” 


132 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


There was a high, hysterical note in her voice, 
and Dick saw with alarm that if she began then 
to explain she would probably begin to cry 
also. 

Here, hold on a minute,” he said hurriedly. 
“ Let’s get out of this jam ! Isn’t there a cosy 
corner somewhere around, where we can have a 
quiet chat ? ” 

It did not seem very likely; and Mary smiled, 
a tremulous little smile, as he had hoped she would, 
at the idea. But in a minute or two, after a careful 
survey, and much adroit and skilful engineering, 
Dick accomplished his purpose ; and Mary 
found herself tucked safely into a little niche just 
at the end of the brass railing which guarded the 
great show windows. 

Dick braced himself in front of her, gripping 
the rail to prevent being swept away, and all at 
once the poor child felt herself in a quiet, sheltered 
haven of refuge. 


LOST, MARY 


133 


'' Now, tell me all about it,’’ said Dick, in a 
soothing, reassuring tone. “ Who is with you — or 
was? Where did you leave Marigold?” And 
then Mary poured out her tale of woe, talking as 
fast as only Mary could talk, under the stress of her 
excitement and fright. 

They had come down town, she explained, to 
finish up their Christmas shopping. Mamma 
had meant to bring them, but her cold was so 
bad she couldn’t; so, not wishing them to wait 
until she was better because the stores would be 
so crowded then (Dick gave a comic glance over 
his shoulder, and Mary laughed nervously), she let 
them go with Ellen. 

And they were to keep right close to Ellen and 
not get separated — and so they had, for the first 
busy, bewildering half-hour or so ; but then, alas ! 
it happened that as they approached the great main 
entrance of the biggest store of all they had been 
caught between two opposite currents of the 


134 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


crowd which pushed and struggled about the 
doors. 

Ellen and Marigold had been forced in one 
direction, and poor helpless Mary in an- 
other. 

She had tried in vain to get sight of them again, 
or even to make her way back to the precise spot 
where she had lost them. Pushed this way and 
that, tossed about like a ship in a stream full of 
rapids and whirlpools, she could not even tell 
where she was herself, and for what seemed to her 
an hour at least she had drifted helplessly, hoping 
against hope for the sight of Marigold’s blue cloak 
or Ellen’s tossing feathers. 

With each minute that passed she grew more 
frightened and distressed, — she had never before 
in her life been alone down town, — and when 
at last a happy miracle threw her right against the 
one person in all that throng whom she knew, 
it seemed to her as though she had been saved 


LOST, MARY 


135 


from some dreadful fate. Even now, in her safe 
comer, she still clung to his coat with one hand 
as if afraid of losing him again, while with the 
other she hugged her little gray muff to her breast 
with the same nervous grasp she had kept upon it 
for the last half hour. 

But why didn’t you give it up, and go home ? ” 
Dick asked her. “ Didn’t you know what car to 
take? ” 

Yes,” said Mary doubtfully, “ but I wanted 
them to find me, too. Marigold will feel so dread- 
fully to think I am lost — and all our shopping 
spoiled, too! 

So I just tried to stay where they saw me last — 
mamma says that is always the way to do — 
but oh dear! I couldn’t, the people pushed 
me so! And now I don’t even know where I 
was. 

“ And papa said if ever I was in trouble to tell 
a policeman and he would take care of me. But 


136 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


I can’t see any policeman, — I can’t see anything 
but people with bundles ! ” 

Yes,” said Dick, grimly, ‘‘ and rushing around 
to buy more bundles ! What on earth they want 
of any more, I can’t — ” 

Just then a big square bundle whose owner was 
inspecting the show window, crushed Mary’s 
big furry hat down over her eyes. 

Dick straightened it up. 

“ What did you wear such an umbrella thing 
for? ” he asked, man-like. “ What you need in a 
place like this is a skull-cap — or a fencing-mask,” 
he added, as he dodged a long, sharp-pointed 
bundle that was aiming straight at his eyes. 

‘‘Yes, a little fence — wouldn’t it be nice!” 
Mary knew but one meaning for the word. 

Dick laughed. “ That’s so,” he said, — 
“ barbed wire ! ” 

The laugh was rather grim. His impatience 
of the “ Christmas nonsense,” forgotten for a 


LOST, MARY 


137 


time, returned in full force as he looked down 
at the gentle, delicate little girl and thought of 
her, pushed and buffeted about, helpless and 
frightened. 


CHAPTER X 


CHRISTMAS SHOPPING 

‘‘Well, now, let’s see what we’d better do 
about it,” Dick began, in a brisk, comfortably 
reassuring tone which had an instant effect in 
the sensitive little face looking up into his so 
trustfully. 

“ What do you suppose Ellen is doing? I don’t 
seem to feel very well acquainted with Ellen, — 
what kind of a head-piece has she got ? ” 

Mary looked puzzled. 

“ Because,” Dick went on, “ it all depends on 
that. If she has any sense she will telephone 
home first, and then she will stay right around 
this store like the Boy on the Burning Deck until 
she finds you. If she is scared enough she will 

notify the police of a ‘ lost baby,’ besides. 

188 


CHRISTMAS SHOPPING 


139 


But if she hasn^t got good sense, it’s hard work 
guessing what she may do. But most likely she 
will hunt awhile till she gets dead scared, and 
then rush off home in despair — to get rid of 
Marigold, and to get further orders.” 

Oh, but,” protested Mary, I don’t think 
Marigold would want to go home — and leave 
me here lost.” 

“ No, I bet she wouldn’t ! ” Dick agreed, 
chuckling at the thought of that resolute little chin 
of Marigold’s, set square, and her brown eyes 
blazing, imprisoned in the homeward bound car. 
“ All the same I rather think that’s what she’s 
done, for of course your mother told you both to 
do as Ellen said. Now what’s your guess? ” 
We-ell,” said Mary, considering, “ Ellen is 
beautiful — she is a dear; but she does get 
frightened pretty easily. That time we had the 
burglars in our house, at South Berket, she just 
screamed and screamed ! Yes,” Mary concluded 


140 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


reluctantly, afraid of seeming unkind, — ‘‘ Ellen 
is lovely, but I really think prob’ly, Dick, she 
would do the scaredest thing.” 

“ Very well, then,” said Dick briskly, if that 
is so the best thing we can do is to get home as 
quick as we can, before she has your mother scared 
blue. 

I’ll just look around and make sure they are 
not about any of these doors, then we will take a 
car, and in twenty minutes from now you will be 
safe at home and all right.” 

He stopped in surprise ; for over the peace and 
relief in the fair little face a faint shadow fell, and 
Mary’s eyes grew troubled. She spoke gently but 
anxiously. 

^‘Why, but, Dick — go home now? Why, 
I haven’t done any of my shopping yet ! ” 

He was so taken aback that for a moment 
he stood still and stared at her, almost with 
open mouth; the simple little protest seemed 


CHRISTMAS SHOPPING 


141 


to have paralyzed him. Then he began to 
laugh. 

What a real little woman it was, after all ! Her 
shopping ! 

Here he had been thinking of her as something 
quite apart, and different from, all that hustling 
scrambling mob.’’ She was one thing, and the 
Christmas crowd was another. It crushed her — • 
overwhelmed her — and his one idea had been 
to get her safe out of its clutches and away. And 
all the time she was really one of them, with the 
same plans and purposes. They were doing their 
Christmas shopping, and so was she; and with 
a child’s happy faculty for quick changes of feeling, 
now that she had a companion again and felt pro- 
tected and safe, she was quite ready to go on with 
the fascinating business. 

But all this would have been too hard to ex- 
plain, so he answered the questioning gaze of the 
gray eyes very briefly and simply. 


142 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


Here I thought I was just the same as saving 
you from bears and lions, in that crazy crowd, — 
and now all you want is to get right back into 
it!” 

But won’t we have to,” asked Mary, inno- 
cently surprised, “if we want to get all those 
errands done ? ” and Dick gave it up, still laughing. 
He understood at last that she was not afraid 
of the big, busy, good-natured crowd itself — 
only of being alone in it. 

He considered for a moment, how he could be 
spared from the office (to spend his afternoon in 
department stores!) and decided that it could be 
managed, by telephoning — he would make up 
for the time lost to-morrow. He was not so much 
needed in the office after the last mail was sent 
out, and sometimes had an hour or two to himself, 
as on the day of the fudge making. 

“ All right,” he said, smiling down into the eager 
eyes that waited for his decision; “ let’s go shop- 


CHRISTMAS SHOPPING 


143 


ping, and do the job up brown while we are about 
it/' 

But then, noticing how pale the small face was 
still, he took a moment more to think. Too bad 
to disappoint her now, — but — 

‘‘ At any rate,” he finished at last, “ we will go 
over to that nice little place I see opposite — that 
is, if we can get across the street alive — and get 
some hot chocolate, and rest a little; and then if 
your cheeks are pink enough to suit me, we 
will come back and plunge into this caravan- 
sery.” 

His plans thus satisfactorily arranged, he care- 
fully extracted Mary from her tight-fitting refuge, 
and with his guarding arm still around her they 
started to breast the rushing torrent of humanity 
at the crossing. 

Half-way across they came upon the big blue 
policeman at his post of duty, and Dick stopped 
to ask if he were looking for a lost child. 


144 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


The policeman said he was looking for five. 
He seemed worried. 

“ Well here is one of ’em/’ said Dick consolingly. 

You can cross the girl in the blue coat off your 
list,” and safe and happy inside her shield, Mary 
smiled up at him, — grateful for the help he would 
have given her if she had found him in her time 
of need. 

The big policeman smiled back at her — as 
people always did at Mary — and a minute later, 
when he threw up his hand to halt a great, tram- 
pling dray-horse, he stroked its velvet nose — much 
to the driver’s surprise. And so both the horse 
and the policeman felt a little bit happier on ac- 
count of Mary Merington. 

As for Mary, she was holding her breath until 
the perilous passage was made in safety; but the 
moment her feet touched the sidewalk, — What’s 
a cavaransery ? ” she demanded. 

But Dick was intent on finding a retired and 


CHRISTMAS SHOPPING 


145 


comfortable nook in the bright, warm little caf6 
where she could wait while he satisfied himself 
that Marigold and Ellen were really nowhere 
about the biggest store of all. 

But first they found a telephone, and Mary, 
close to his elbow, listened with much satisfaction 
to the announcement that Miss Mary was with 
Mr. Saunders and would come home as soon as 
her errands were finished. 

She thought it sounded very nice and grown up. 

It was Helda who answered the telephone. 
Mrs. Merington was lying down, she said. No, 
no word had been received from Ellen. 

It was strange Ellen had not thought of the 
telephone, — apparently her ‘‘ head-piece ” really 
was not all it might have been. 

But she had searched, long and anxiously, for 
her charge, and had given it up only when (as 
Dick had guessed) she became convinced that 
Miss Mary was nowhere about the place, and 
therefore must have gone home. 


146 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


She did not imagine how far up the street the 
bewildered child had drifted. 

So she hurried back to the house, dragging with 
her the fiercely rebellious Marigold, and was met, 
not by Mary, as she had hoped, but by the welcome 
news of her safety. 

There ! Now you see ! ” cried Marigold 
passionately. But poor Ellen did not see, — and 
in fact it was not easy to see, unless what Marigold 
meant was that the wonderfully good luck of 
Mary’s being found by Dick proved that they 
would have found her themselves if they had 
stayed, which it did not prove, at all. 

Meanwhile, Dick, at the telephone, had arranged 
for his leave of absence from the office, and then, 
leaving Mary in her snug corner, had made as 
thorough (and as swift) a search around the big 
store as the crowds permitted. 

He returned, quite sure of the correctness of his 
guess (though he telephoned again, later, and made 


CHRISTMAS SHOPPING 


147 


sure of it), and found Mary eagerly awaiting him, 
her question ready on her lips. 

‘‘What is a cavaransery? 

Dick explained that he had only meant to com- 
pare the crowded store to the most confused and 
noisy place he knew of ; but explanations brought 
new questions, and they took their chocolate with 
an accompaniment of camels, date palms, and 
white-robed Bedouins. 

Next, after a careful survey of Mary’s cheeks, 
Dick pronounced their pinkness satisfactory ; and, 
much refreshed and cheered by the rest and the 
hot chocolate — and more than all by his com- 
forting and protecting escort — Mary set blithely 
forth (still clasping his hand very tightly, however), 
to resume the delightful business of her Christmas 
shopping, which had been so long interrupted. 

Hand in hand they safely recrossed the perilous 
street ; and as they went, Dick, looking down in 
amused wonder at the buoyant little figure tripping 


148 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


along beside him, full of happy confidence, 
announced his conclusion. 

“ I say,” he observed thoughtfully, “ I believe 
you have got as much stick-to-it in you as Marigold 
has, though it doesn’t stick out all over you as it 
does on her.” 

But Mary was engaged in dodging between 
a stout old lady on one side and a Sunday-school 
class of small boys on the other, and did not hear 
him. 

It must have been at least an hour later before 
Dick found time to realize, with much amusement, 
that he himself had become a genuine ‘‘ Christmas 
shopper,” just as busy and as eager as any of the 

ten thousand lunatics ” whom he had despised 
(while he was a philosopher). 

He was carrying bundles, too, like all the rest — 
bundles too precious to risk loss or delay by having 
them sent home. 

They were most businesslike shoppers, — 


CHRISTMAS SHOPPING 


149 


they wasted no time in looking around. Mary 
had her list, neatly written out on mamma’s 
visiting-card, in the tiny blue purse which had its 
own little pocket inside the fluffy muff. 

To check off every item on that list now seemed 
to Dick a business of the greatest importance, and 
he was devoting his whole mind to it. 

He had grown cunning in contriving to be the 
last one admitted to the closely packed elevators, 
— because, as he said, you lost no time getting in, 
and you saved a lot getting out. 

He had become expert in steering Mary dexter- 
ously through the crowd to the proper counter, 
with the least possible number of frictions and 
collisions. 

Once she was safely placed in the front row 
next the counter, with Dick firmly braced behind 
her, to keep her from being pushed aside, his cares 
were at an end ; for her own sweet face and pretty, 
gentle manners always secured prompt and 


150 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


pleasant attention from even the Grossest or 
busiest salesman. 

Whoever was snubbed or neglected in the rush 
of the holiday trade,” Mary never was. 

I am afraid we have made you a lot of trouble,” 
Dick said apologetically to one tired-looking sales- 
woman who had spent much time on them, and 
pulled down and opened many boxes without a 
hint of impatience. 

“ Not at all,” she answered quickly, with a 
very pleasant smile. She is an oasis in the day’s 
work.” 

Dick returned the smile, understandingly. ‘‘ In 
mine, too,” he said. 

A few minutes after, as they stood waiting for 
the elevator, he felt a pull at his hand, and looked 
down into a very puzzled, inquiring face. 

Dick I ” said Mary. “ That lady said I was 
an oasis.” 

“ Well, that’s all right — so you are. What 


CHRISTMAS SHOPPING 


151 


seems to be the difficulty?’^ he asked, smil- 
ing. 

“ But, Dick ! ” Mary’s eyebrows grew still 
more perplexed. You said an oasis was a little 
green spot — with springs — ” 

“ Just so,” said Dick. Yours are watch- 
springs, I believe. But never mind, — they are 
nice pleasant little spots, and everybody likes 
’em. Here’s the elevator — step lively.” 

And as she stepped obediently, and he followed, 
Dick smiled again, to see how perfectly uncon- 
scious she was of receiving any special attention. 

She only knew that everybody was very nice 
and kind ; and she went her way in serene satis- 
faction, marred only by the sorrowful reflection 
that came over her about once in five minutes, 
that poor Marigold was missing all her shopping 
and not having any of the fun. 

But each time Dick managed to console her. 
It was much better, he said, — since it had hap- 


152 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


pened so, — to get her errands all done first, and 
then next time they could devote all the time to 
Marigold’s. It would be twice as easy. 

So Mary would cheer up and go gaily on again, 
anxiously studying her list at every turn, and 
jubilantly checking off each article as it was bought. 


CHAPTER XI 


MARY'S METHODS 

Meanwhile Dick, who had begun the after- 
noon in such an un-Christmaslike temper, was 
quite unconsciously taking lessons in the spirit 
of Christmas by simply watching this one little 
Christmas shopper. 

He was beginning to see what Mamma Mering- 
ton had seen when she said Mary had “ plenty 
of character," and there was more than affec- 
tionate admiration in his thoughts as he watched 
her — you might almost have called it respect, 
if she had not been such a very little person ! 

She knew precisely what she wanted, and she 
never changed her mind — their only difficulty 
was to find the exact thing. 

Each gift had been planned beforehand, with 
163 


154 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


loving care, to suit, not her own taste, but the 
need or liking of the person for whom it was 
meant. 

Among the rainbow-confusions of a “ neck- 
wear ” counter he was a little surprised to see 
her choose a very gay affair — a long, gauzy 
veil, or scarf, or something, he didn’t just know 
what, of the most vivid red. 

‘‘Don’t you think the blue is prettier?” he 
suggested, — “ not quite so — er — lively ? ” 

“ Yes, I do, but Maggie likes red best,” Mary 
answered simply, “ because, you see, red is her 
color.” And then he recalled that the Mering- 
ton’s cook was a most decided brunette, with the 
blackest hair and eyes and bright crimson cheeks. 
The gay scarf would make a splendid gipsy of 
her. 

There was not much money in the little blue 
purse; what there was had been saved from 
her small allowance for many weeks for this one 


MARY’S METHODS 


155 


great purpose, and it was all carefully apportioned 
to its many uses. 

For Grandpa Vance her heart was set on a pair 
of easy, comfortable house shoes. 

She had consulted Mrs. Pepperell, and she 
knew the size and the kind he needed for his 
poor lame feet. 

She passed resolutely by all the temptations of 
stiff, shiny patent leather and bright colored 
trimmings, and the shoes she chose at last were 
big and homely; but they were of good soft 
leather and lined cosily with lambs’ wool. 

‘‘ You see if they are not just as easy as the 
old ones,” she explained, “ they won’t be any 
comfort to him, — and that is what they are /(?r.” 

There were two pair, one a little nicer than the 
other, and costing a little more. Mary chose 
the cheaper, though not without several wistful 
glances at the others. “ But if we take those,” 
she confided to Dick, “ I shall have only forty 


156 


MARIGOLD^S WINTER 


cents left for Ellen’s present; and I want to get 
something very nice for Ellen, she is so kind to 
me.” 

When every item had been crossed off the neat 
little list, and the corresponding parcel safely 
stowed away in Dick’s pocket or Mary’s muff, 
and when at last they were in the car bound 
homeward, Mary began to realize that she was 
tired. 

She leaned heavily against Dick’s arm and her 
long dark lashes drooped ; but she was in a state 
of blissful contentment with her afternoon’s 
work, and still inclined to conversation. (Mary 
would have to be very tired indeed, not to want to 
talk.) 

She chattered happily away about their Christ- 
mas plans. To-day’s purchases had been only 
finishing up the last things, for ‘‘ Mary ’n’ Mary ” 
were not of the foolish ones who put off everything 
until the crush and confusion of the last few days. 


MARY’S METHODS 


157 


No indeed ! It was much too important and too 
delightful a business for that. Ever since Thanks- 
giving, and even before, they had devoted much 
of their time and thoughts to it; — making their 
plans, writing and re-writing many lists, consult- 
ing with mamma, and working on the pretty things 
they were making with their own busy little hands 
for their “ most special friends.’’ 

Besides the presents, there were many other 
Christmas joys to look forward to. 

The cousins were all coming from New York 
to spend the whole of Christmas week with them ; 
wasn’t that perfectly lovely? And mamma was 
going to take them all to the theatre in a box, to 
see the children play, ^ — wouldn’t that be nice? 

And oh, the Christmas boxes! That was the 
best of all. Mary described with glee how they 
had planned and filled them, — each packed 
full of its little white parcels with nuts and raisins 
and candy filling all the crevices and comers. 


158 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


and a big wreath of holly, with its gay red ribbons, 
laid on top of all. 

One box was for the Murray children, — 
Marigold’s ‘‘ step-family,” with whom she had lived 
in South Berket before she became Mary’s 
sister, — and the other was going down to the 
seashore, to the little Starretts. 

This one seemed to haye been particularly 
good fun, for the peculiar reason that nobody 
could remember exactly how many little Starretts 
there were or how many of them were boys. 

Marigold had seen them oftenest ; but even she 
could not be sure at this distance how many of 
the mingled families had properly belonged to 
the Amos Starretts and how many to Hosea and 
Lemuel. 

Great care had been needed, therefore, to 
choose some gifts that would do for either boys or 
girls. Luckily goodies please everybody alike, and 
there were enough oranges and figs and candy to 


MARY’S METHODS 


159 


make the box a large one, and its reception the 
merriest Christmas that ever came to that bare 
little house by the sea. 

At intervals Mary roused herself to inspect her 
muff and feel in Dick’s pockets, to make sure that 
all her precious parcels were safe. 

Her greatest satisfaction, however, was in the 
bulky oblong bundle under his arm, which con- 
tained the wool-lined shoes, and promised so much 
future comfort for Grandpa Vance. ‘‘ For he 
will need such a lot of warm things, if he is going 
to live in the country,” she said with a little sigh. 

“ Country — how’s that? ” asked Dick. Are 
the Pepperells going to move right away? ” 

No, they haven’t found their farm yet,” 
Mary answered, looking troubled. But they 
say they are going somewhere, certainly, in the 
spring. You see, Mrs. Pepperell has been cooped 
up here as long as she can stand it, and she just 
must have room enough to swing a cat.” 


160 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


Mrs. Pepperell’s blunt phrases sounded very 
funny in Mary’s gentle voice, and Dick laughed 
in spite of his sympathy. 

But why does Mr. Vance have to go with 
them?” he asked. ‘‘I shouldn’t suppose farm 
life would suit him very well.” 

“ No, Grampavance doesn’t like it, I know,” 
she answered sadly. “ He couldnH be happy 
there, because he has to get so many books from 
the library; but mamma doesn’t know where 
in the world she can find anybody else who would 
take such good care of him as Mrs. Pepperell 
does.” 

This seemed to be a quotation also, and it con- 
firmed the idea Dick had already formed, that the 
Meringtons looked after the old gentleman’s 
welfare and probably paid Mrs. Pepperell for her 
care of him. 

‘‘Well, it is too bad,” he said sympathetically, 
as he signalled the conductor to stop. “ I can’t 


MARY’S METHODS 


161 


imagine Grampavance — or Demosthenes either 
— living on a farm.” 

They left the car and hastened home. 

As they approached the house they saw Mari- 
gold’s watching face at the window, framed 
between masses of white azaleas ; but it vanished 
quickly, and before they reached the steps she 
had flung open the door and was eagerly awaiting 
them. 

Dick had meant simply to leave Mary at the 
door and go, but this neither she nor Marigold 
would allow. They seized upon him, and he had 
to go up to the library, and submit his pockets to 
their rummaging, then take his part in the un- 
wrapping and display of all the packages — one 
of the most delightful parts of shopping, as every 
shopper knows. 

When he did leave the house at last the short 
winter afternoon was over, and it was time to 
go home to dinner. 


162 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


On the way, however, he stopped to make 
two purchases on his own account. One of them, 
indeed, took him a little out of his way and into 
the crowd again; but somehow he did not seem 
to mind that now. By some magic they had all 
changed from a hustling mob ” into a great 
many very good-natured, kind-hearted people, 
each one bent on giving pleasure to others. 

Oh, yes, Dick had learned his Christmas lesson : 
but he could not stop to think about it now, — 
he was too busy. He was doing his Christmas 
shopping ! 

The first purchase was for Marigold ; and Dick 
was extremely well pleased with his rather curious 
choice, and his certainty that it would exactly 
suit her taste. 

It was not a lady’s knife,” — a dainty pearl or 
ivory affair, — not at all. It was a stout, service- 
able little jack-knife, with two strong blades of 
the best steel, and a handle of dark striped horn ; 


MARY^S METHODS 


163 


such a knife as he would use, and value, him- 
self. 

Dick . understood Marigold pretty well ; and 
he tucked away the little parcel in a safe inside 
pocket, with much complacency. 

Soon after leaving the cutlery store, he passed 
a Japanese bazaar, whose windows blazed in the 
lamplight with gorgeous silks and embroideries, 
china, bronze, and lacquer. 

He paused a moment, charmed by the dazzling 
array; and then his wandering eyes were caught 
and held fast by one little object, down near the 
glass, — a small, delicately modelled image of 
Buddha, seated on his lotus blossom, of pale 
green pottery, with a dull lustre like jade. 

Dick gazed at it fascinated, and the plan he had 
had in mind for Mary was forgotten entirely ; he 
went in and bought Buddha without delay. 

As he tucked it carefully into the other inside 
pocket, he laughed quietly to himself. ‘ One 


164 


MARIGOLD^S WINTER 


good turn deserves another/ he thought. ‘‘ / 
am giving her a ‘ little green spot ’ now.’’ 

He happened to know a curious taste of Mary’s 
— her love for images of any sort. Even the china 
dogs and rubber cats of her babyhood had been 
tenderly preserved, and there was a quaint little 
row of them ranged on the top of her tiny writing- 
desk, together with her dear little carved wooden 
bear from Switzerland, two figures of Mexican 
peons clad in real Mexican clothes, and other 
treasures, the gifts of family friends. 

Dick knew that she would love the Buddha. As 
he looked at the heavenly calm of the little green 
countenance he smiled to see how like the expres- 
sion was to Mary’s own in her quiet moments. 

Quite content with his peculiar choice of gifts, 
Dick pursued his homeward way; and as he 
went he felt for the little parcels in his pockets 
quite as often as any other of the ten thousand 
lunatics; and when he reached his room he was 


MARY’S METHODS 


165 


just as eager to unwrap and have another look at 
them as any lunatic of them all. 

As he stood under the gaslight, complacently 
examining the little green Buddha, he remembered 
with a feeling of wonder his mood of the early 
afternoon. 

'' Christmas is Christmas, after all,” he thought, 

and there’s no sense in being grumpy and feeling 
left out of it. Just go ahead and do something for 
somebody, and you are getting your share of 
Christmas ! 

“ It is rather a pity, though, there are only these 
two youngsters I can do anything for — and 
they have about everything in the world al- 
ready.” 

“ Scots ! ” said Dick suddenly, aloud, struck 
by a new idea; and he set Buddha down on his 
writing-table with a light thump for emphasis. 
“ What an idiot I am, to say there’s nobody else 1 
I’ll bet she won’t get a thing — probably hasn’t 


166 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


any folks at all, except the ones that went out 
West, poor old soul.” 

He was thinking of Mrs. Belden. 

It was not so easy, however, to think of anything 
suitable for a Christmas surprise to the “ poor 
old soul.” (Mrs. Belden was not old — not much 
older than his own mother would have been if 
she were living.) 

He strongly suspected that what the poor 
lady needed most were practical comforts, such 
as he could hardly venture to offer. Even cash 
probably wouldn’t come amiss,” he thought re- 
gretfully. 

Since he could not do that, the only other plan 
was to select “ something so useless and jolly 
she never would dream of getting it for herself.” 

He pondered the problem, sitting with elbows 
on the table and both hands in his hair, gazing 
thoughtfully at the green and tranquil features of 
Mary’s gift. 


MARY’S METHODS 


167 


And presently it seemed as though the calm, 
wise little face had really lent him some of its 
wisdom; for Buddha suggested the thought of 
Mary and Marigold, and that called up the picture 
of Marigold’s face as he had seen it that afternoon 
in the window, framed by the delicate lace draper- 
ies and the clusters of azalea blossoms. 

Flowers — growing flowers, that would live and 
bloom all through the cold, dreary winter months, 
— how they would brighten up the cold, dreary 
room somewhere at the back of the house, which 
was Mrs. Belden’s home.” Dick did not know 
where it was, but it was sure to be a place that 
was not good enough for boarders. 

He would get her an azalea, like those in Mrs. 
Merington’s drawing-room. ‘‘ Only pink,” he 
decided. ‘‘ It’s all right for people who have 
everything they want and can get everything 
else, to have white flowers around; but if a 
person doesn’t feel very rosy herself, what she 
needs is pink ! ” 


CHAPTER XII 


CHRISTMAS EVE 

On Christmas Eve, just in time for dinner, 
the New York branch of the Merington family 
arrived. 

They were all there, — Uncle John, Aunt Ade- 
laide, Rodney, and the twins, Elinor and Eliza- 
beth — whom Mary no longer envied their twin- 
ship, now that she had a dear twin of her own. 

All the afternoon they had been impatiently 
expected. Ever5^hing was ready; all the Christ- 
mas parcels tied up with their pretty ribbons, 
duly labelled, and hidden away in the safest 
thinkable nooks ; every window gay with its holly 
wreath and great bow of red ribbon, — that was 
enough in itself to fill small people with a fluttering 

sense of festivity — and the long dinner-table 
168 


CHRISTMAS EVE 


169 


also was gayly decked with holly and mistletoe. 

A real Christmas snow-storm, thick and feath- 
ery, was falling out of doors; and the travellers 
came in amid a delightfully Christmassy flurry 
and tumult of welcomes, questions, and explana- 
tions of delayed trains, mingled with the stamp- 
ing and shaking off of snow, the bundling off of 
wraps, and kisses and “ how youVe grown ! ” 
for all the children. 

Mary had grown most, they said. She had 
the two inches of which her mother had boasted, 
and a little more since that, and had now exactly 
caught up with Marigold, making them more 
than ever “ twins.” And Rodney, too, they said, 
was going to be tall like his father.” 

As usual, Rodney was taking things very 
calmly, and had little to say, while the four girls 
fluttered and chattered; but his dark eyes shone 
with the pleasure of the meeting, and when he 
shook hands with the dimpling, sparkling Mari- 


170 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


gold, his quiet, “This is jolly, isn’t it?” meant 
quite as much to her as his sisters’ kisses and 
compliments. 

Perhaps it meant a little more; there was 
always just the slightest bit of constraint between 
her and Elinor and Elizabeth, and she knew they 
did not yet feel toward her precisely as they did 
toward Mary. 

Of course they all loved the sweet little cousin 
(she was still “ little Mary,” in spite of her two 
new inches), but while they liked the new cousin 
heartily, they had not yet got close enough to her 
to learn that she could be sweet, too. 

Rodney had had a glimpse of that last summer, 
but like most boys he was a little shy and stiff 
at first, and they did not begin quite where they 
had left off three months before. 

The dinner was a merry one, full of Christmas 
fun and stories, and just before they left the table 
Christmas began in earnest with the arrival of the 


CHRISTMAS EVE 


171 


first present — an odd looking bundle which came 
by express. 

It was a large canvas bag, securely corded up, 
very knobby in appearance and rattling with 
a wooden, clicking sound when you shook it. 

The express tag read ‘‘ Miss M. & M. Mering- 
ton ” and M. and M. had to be excused from 
the table instantly, to pick at, and pull, and at 
last cut the stout cords, to find without delay 
what was inside. 

It proved to be even better than any of the 
guesses with which the children enlivened their 
efforts. It was half a bushel of hickory nuts ; and 
enclosed with them a note from Mrs. Pepperell, 
in which she stated briefly that these shagbarks 
were the only thing Mr. Pepperell had got out 
of his last farm-hunting trip, — that she wanted 
to give the children something for Christmas, and 
that if they were anything like what young ones 
were when she was a young one, they would like 


172 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


cracking nuts and picking out the meats about 
as well as anything. Theirs truly, M. J. Pepperell. 

She had guessed right, — young ones were 
still the same. The five of them were clustered 
around the, bag in a twinkling, handling and biting 
the hard shells cautiously, and clamoring for nut- 
crackers ; while the two fathers, almost as pleased 
and interested as the children, began to tell 
stories of their boyhood days, when they went 
nutting and knew every hickory and chestnut- 
tree for miles around. 

The four daughters listened with deep interest, 
but Rodney quietly and practically devoted his 
energies to getting these nuts cracked; and by 
dint of invading the kitchen for a hammer and a 
flat-iron, carpeting the dining-room with nut-shells 
thick as Vallombrosa’s leaves, and driving Ellen 
to distraction in her efforts to clear the table, 
in half an hour they had a great bowlful ready 
for picks and fingers. 


CHRISTMAS EVE 


173 


The elders were gathered in the drawing-room, 
but after one look at the big dish, with its shells 
to scatter, mamma pleasantly proposed that the 
children take them up to the library, where the 
wood fire would “ make it seem more like old 
times. 

That suited them exactly. Up-stairs they 
trooped; and when at Mary's suggestion they 
had turned out the lights, and gathered in a half- 
circle on the hearth rug in the red firelight, their 
satisfaction was complete. 

Then Marigold had another happy thought, 
disappeared, and presently returned bringing 
five big red apples to roast on the hearth the way 
papa and Uncle John used to do. 

They brought down all the sofa pillows to sit 
or lean on, and also the old “ gray shawl," which 
was such a faithful family standby for every pos- 
sible use. Nothing could be cosier. 

Then they sat comfortably in the warmth of 


174 


MARIGOLD^S WINTER 


the blaze, eating their nuts, watching the softly 
hissing apples, and talking. 

There were moments when the conversation 
also grew a little warm; for the little New Yorkers 
were very human children — Elizabeth was just 
a bit apt to be fretful, while Elinor was extremely 
sure of her own opinions, and always ready to 
argue a point; and Rod, it must be confessed, 
was a trifle inconsiderate about teasing them 
both. 

Once or twice Mary^s eyebrows went up in a 
troubled fashion, and Marigold felt slightly un- 
comfortable for a minute, but nothing came of it. 

At last, however, there really was a squabble.^^ 
Elinor had contradicted him pretty positively, 
and Rod, not choosing to be put down by a girl 
and a sister, answered her sharply. 

For a moment or two the dispute was lively. 
Elizabeth took Elinor^s part; and Mary and 
Marigold really grew very uncomfortable indeed. 



“SHE THREW THE SHAWL OVER HIS HEAD, SNUFFING HIM 
OUT LIKE A CANDLE.” 



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CHRISTMAS EVE 


175 


Mary, dear child, hardly knew how to squabble. 
Marigold did, — but she never squabbled with 
Mary, and in fact was quite out of the habit of 
it nowadays. She had not been really, seriously 
‘‘ mad since the day of her dreadful and mem- 
orable quarrel with Rodney himself, last sum- 
mer. 

And Christmas Eve did seem such an especially 
bad time to be making oneself unpleasant: she 
wished Rod would stop it. 

He was next to her in the semicircle, l5ring 
comfortably on his back on the old gray shawl, 
with his hands clasped under his head. 

A loose end of the shawl was under her hand, and 
with a sudden impulse Marigold lifted it and 
threw it completely over Rod’s head and shoul- 
ders, stifling his disputatious voice in its thick 
folds, and snuffing him out like a candle. 

He stopped short, in the middle of his sentence, 
and lay perfectly still. 


176 


MARIGOLD^S WINTER 


The other girls laughed at the sudden inter- 
ruption. Elinor, her good humor quite restored, 
asked if that was what you meant by shutting 
a person up,^’ and Mary gayly quoted something 
about ‘‘ suppressing the guinea pig,’^ from her 
much loved “ Alice book. 

But Rodney did not join in the laugh. Indeed, 
for a little while he was not there at all. 

The sudden darkness and the feeling of the 
soft, heavy folds over his face had whisked him 
away like the “ magic carpet ” from the beauti- 
ful firelit room to a bleak rock on the seashore, 
circled by roaring surf, where under the warm 
shelter of that same old gray shawl he had done 
some of the most serious thinking of his thoughtless 
young life. 

And then, as now, it had been Marigold’s 
friendly little hand that wrapped him in its 
comfortable folds ; and it was her generosity 
and her clear, unsparing sense of honor that had 


CHRISTMAS EVE 


177 


saved him from making a worse fool of himself 
than he had already made. 

No wonder Rod’s memories held him silent 
for a little while. 

Marigold had laughed with the others, as much 
surprised as they at his sudden docility, for she 
had fully expected a lively resistance, and had 
merely meant to stop the disagreeable discussion 
by a friendly scuffle. 

But as she sat there quietly for a minute, while 
the rest resumed their interrupted chatter, the 
recollection that had silenced Rod came back 
to her too, and with it a little glow of pleasure in 
the thought of the friendship that had been 
pledged and sealed under the gray shawl, that 
day when the fog came in. 

She wondered if Rod was thinking of it, too — 
and then she began to feel a little scared. 

Did he think she had meant to remind him; 
and was he mad ? Boys hate so to cry — perhaps 


178 


MARIGOLD^S WINTER 


he thought it was mean of her to bring it up 
again. 

Or perhaps he was not thinking of that at all, 
but was vexed by her reproof (for it had amounted 
to that) for plaguing Elinor. 

She worried about this silently for awhile, 
and then, frightened into courage, determined 
to find out about it. Very quietly she slipped 
her hand under the shawl and laid it gently on 
the invisible curly head, as she had done that 
other day. 

There was a moment’s stillness, and then she 
felt it grasped as it had been before, by the rough 
boyish hand and held tight. 

Now Rod was not in the least a sentimental 
or emotional person — no more so than most 
boys of fifteen — but somehow, hidden there in 
the dark, with no chance for anybody to say 
anything, it seemed easy to do it, and it answered 
as well as a whole lot of talking. 


CHRISTMAS EVE 


179 


After a minute more of the friendly silence, 
he flung off the shawl and came out of his eclipse, 
sat up briskly and pulled Elinor’s long braid 
in token of restored peace. 

Meanwhile, his apple had scorched ; but Mary 
and Elizabeth both insisted on giving him half 
of theirs, — thus making a nice little problem 
in short division for them, and in addition for 
Rodney. 

Marigold felt very happy: Rod was not mad 
after all, — or at least if he had been her apology 
was accepted. She began to hope they would be 
chums ” again, as they had been last summer. 
By breakfast time next morning she was com- 
fortably sure of it, and not a cloud was left in her 
Christmas sky. 

Soon after the leisurely Christmas Day break- 
fast was over, Mary and Marigold were surprised 
and charmed to receive a morning call from 
Mr. Saunders.” 


180 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


Mr. Saunders was obliged to make his call an 
early and a short one, for his day was brimful 
of engagements; but he would not miss the 
pleasure of bringing his little gifts to the children 
himself, and seeing how enchanted they both 
were with his odd selections. 

He had been invited to the family dinner that 
evening, but had to decline, for the Ambulance 
Corps was having a Christmas celebration, and 
Dick, who still belonged to the corps, was on the 
‘‘ Committee of Arrangements.” Most of his 
day would be devoted to arranging. 

But when Mrs. Merington asked him to come 
later in the week instead he promised, gladly and 
gratefully. 

Mamma Merington was very sweet to him that 
morning, and the children clung to him, laughing 
and protesting against his going, until he had 
fairly reached the door. 

Dick went off to the Armory in a very happy 


CHRISTMAS EVE 


181 


frame of mind. “ ArenH they the sweetest people 
that ever lived? ’’ he said, half aloud, to an Eng- 
lish sparrow which was blocking his way with a 
huge crumb. “ Christmas is worth while, isn’t 
it?” 

The sparrow considered him light-headed ; 
and perhaps he was. Perhaps he had not yet 
quite recovered his balance after the lovely 
surprise with which his Christmas had begun. 

When he had opened his eyes that morning the 
first thing they rested on was a large mail parcel 
lying on his table. It had entirely escaped his 
notice when he had come in, late and tired, from 
a committee meeting the evening before. 

It did not take long to wake up and reach out 
for that parcel; and then Dick stopped to laugh 
at his own eagerness, and the utterly unexpected 
and astonishing spectacle of himself sitting up 
in bed to examine his Christmas presents like 
the little boys in the Christmas magazines.” 


182 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


Inside the box were soft white papers, red 
ribbons, and dainty holly painted cards with in- 
scriptions which Dick read first, very carefully. 

Both were in big, round, painstaking hand- 
writing, and Love ” and Merry Christmas ” 
looked especially big and plain. 

One of the soft white parcels contained a most 
magnificent pincushion, its cover wonderfully 
and mysteriously wrought of satin ribbons, lus- 
trous and delicately tinted. 

This was With Dear Love from Mary ; and the 
long box for his ties, covered to match, with the 
same ribbons, bore Marigold’s loving and labo- 
rious greeting. 

Under these, on the bottom of the box, lay a 
large flat parcel. Dick opened it, and caught his 
breath with surprise and pleasure. 

It was a photograph, large and exquisite — 
the dear, beautiful mother’s face in the centre, 
with a charming childish head pressed close on 


CHRISTMAS EVE 


183 


either side, and all three smiling out at him with 
happy eyes. 

Dick sat and looked at it a long time, until his 
own eyes began to feel queer; and when he 
turned it over and saw the few words written 
across the back in Mrs. Merington’s hand, he 
found he could not see to read them very clearly. 

He rubbed his eyes hastily and laughed. I 
must have forgotten what Christmas used to 
feel like,’’ he murmured, apologizing to himself 
for his weakness. 

He stood the photograph on his writing-table 
with hands that were almost reverent, and ar- 
ranged the box and cushion on the bare bureau- 
top, where their dainty freshness made a startling 
contrast to the severe plainness of their surround- 
ings. 

With all this present preoccupation he entirely 
forgot about the little pot of rosy azalea which 
he had bribed the table girl to deliver to Mrs. 


184 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


Belden the first thing in the morning; and when 
as he went down to breakfast she waylaid him 
in the hall, tremulous and half-tearful, and 
struggling to express her embarrassed thanks, 
he was honestly puzzled for a moment to know 
what she was talking about. 

Then he remembered, — and in some ways 
it gave him even more pleasure than his own 
gifts had brought. 

To have given so much happiness, and received 
so much, all before breakfast time, made a pretty 
complete Christmas already, he thought ; and 
he went in to breakfast in a true holiday humor.” 


CHAPTER XIII 


LARRY 

Christmas Day was packed full of pleasures, 
and the Merington house was filled with festive 
tumult from morning till night. 

After breakfast (for mamma had insisted on 
everybody’s being fed first) came the rapturous 
excitement of sorting and undoing the Christmas 
bundles all heaped on the big library table. 

Then came Dick’s little visit, and afterward, 
several more morning callers. The children all 
went out to carry their gifts to Dorothy and other 
friends, and being joined by several of these, 
accomplished their errands in a riotous fashion 
that turned the walk into a romp, and snow- 
balled all the way home down the avenue. 

After a merry luncheon, interrupted by more 


186 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


friends dropping in ” and out, there was a 
grand sleigh-ride far out into the pretty suburbs, 
in the keen bright air, full of tinkling bells, and 
the dazzle of the sunshine on new snow. 

In all the children’s revels Marigold was a 
leading spirit, quite as Mary Murray had been in 
the old days of the sand-lot in McGowan’s Lane. 

Marigold no longer felt shy of the New York 
cousins, or even of dry, silent Uncle John, who 
watched her so shrewdly but so kindly; and she 
firmly believed she was the happiest child alive. 

Elinor and Elizabeth had never seemed so 
affectionate and free with her before, and as for 
Rod , — that had been settled before breakfast, 
as we were saying. 

Rod had this winter what his sisters called an 
‘‘ athletic craze,” and one of the symptoms was 
a brisk walk or run each morning before breakfast. 

It was still early when he let himself in quietly 
at the front door, after his ‘‘ constitutional,” 


LARRY 


187 


and started softly up-stairs, hushed involuntarily 
by the morning stillness of the big, warm, flower- 
scented house. 

Half-way up the second flight, he looked up 
and saw Marigold above him at the head of the 
stairs, just coming down. 

Her arms were full of white parcels tied with 
red ribbons, but she quickly freed one hand and 
laid her finger on her lips. “ Merry Christmas ! ’’ 
she whispered, beaming down on him as fresh and 
radiant as the morning sunshine he had just 
left out of doors. 

Rod continued to ascend, but slowly, with a 
hand on either rail, barring the way. 

Marigold saw she was not to be allowed to pass, 
so she waited, puzzled but smiling, until he 
paused on the stair below her, his eyes just level 
with hers. 

Say, Marigold,’’ he said — and stopped. 

‘‘ Yes? ” she waited, still smiling and expectant. 


188 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


“Well — it’s Christmas, you know,” he went 
on, and paused again, eying her speculatively. 
“ Say — should you mind if I kiss you? ” 

Marigold looked straight back at him, wide- 
eyed and earnest. 

“Why, no. Rod — I’d like it! ” she said; and 
Rod kissed her. 

It was the first time; for that was the one 
difference he had ever made between the two 
little cousins — ^the only sign that she had not 
been born a cousin, like Mary, whom he had 
kissed, at meeting and parting, ever since she 
was a baby. 

He went his way up-stairs, feeling a trifle silly, 
but pleased on the whole; and as for Marigold, 
she ran down to the library with wings on her 
feet and a happy little tune singing itself in her 
heart : — “He does like me, after all, in spite of 
my ‘ shutting him up,’ — he likes me as much 
as Mary 1 ” 


LARRY 


189 


Christmas week went on as gaily as it had begun, 
though Uncle John had to return to New York 
on the following day. He never could be away 
from business very long, for he had so much 
money that he wanted to make a great deal more. 

Aunt Adelaide and the children remained 
through the week. 

On the first afternoon came the long promised 
treat of going to the theatre in a box,’’ — 
which filled the children’s highest ideal of splendor 
and pleasure. 

It was a real Christmas play — a good old fairy 
tale, with sprites and elves and human children 
all mingled together in delightful confusion. 

The pretty little theatre was filled with children ; 
floor and balcony and boxes overflowed with 
parties of happy little folks and their accompany- 
ing mothers, big sisters, or other escort. Only 
in the upper balcony was a sprinkling of boys and 
young men. 


190 


MARIGOLD^S WINTER 


Of all the merry parties none were prettier or 
gayer than that in Mrs. Merington’s box; and 
many eyes turned often in that direction, during 
the waits between the acts, while the house was 
lighted. 

Aunt Adelaide and Aunt May ’’ were the only 
ones who remained in one place long — Aunt 
Adelaide stately and modish in deep red, and 
Aunt May in her pretty light blue cloth with the 
lace and fur, which was the children’s favorite. 
It was their party, and she had dressed to please 
them. 

The rest of the box was a flutter of white frocks 
and curls and ribbons, — except for Rodney, 
and he, for the most part, sheltered himself 
behind Aunt May’s chair. 

Oddly enough he was the only one of the chil- 
dren who seemed to feel any self-consciousness, 
or to be aware that any attention was paid them. 
The others were too excited and interested to 


LARRY 


191 


attend to anything but their own party and the 
wonders of the stage. 

It was just before the last act that Marigold, 
leaning comfortably over the velvet-cushioned 
railing, was observing the house attentively for 
the first time. 

Rodney happened to be looking at her, and 
was the only one to see the curious change that 
came over her face. 

It was lifted toward the upper balcony, and her 
eyes were wandering idly along the rows of strange 
faces, when suddenly they stopped and remained 
fixed. Her rosy, animated face grew set, and the 
pretty color slowly faded, leaving it quite white; 
while in her smiling eyes grew first wonder, then 
amazement, and at last absolute fear ! 

Greatly surprised and concerned, Rodney tried 
to see at whom, or what, she was staring so 
strangely, but it was impossible to tell, and just 
as he leaned forward to touch her arm and break 


192 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


the spell, the lights went down and the curtain 
rose again. 

The music and dancing and pretty final scenes 
claimed all their attention then until the play 
was ended; and afterwards, in the confusion of 
sorting and putting on wraps, the slow progress 
to the street entrance and waiting in the crowd 
for the carriage, there was no opportunity for 
more observation. And when they reached home 
other things were happening, right along, so 
presently Rodney forgot his intention of asking 
Marigold, when he got a chance, ‘‘ what was 
up?” 

She seemed as bright and lively that evening 
as before; but there were moments when her 
eyes looked strange again and she seemed not to 
hear what was said to her. 

And through all the gay good times of the week 
that followed, Rod noticed that look at intervals, — 
the look of fear or dread, when she seemed for 


LARRY 


193 


the moment to be lost in painful thoughts, and 
then would come to herself and after a few minutes 
of rather nervous gaiety would resolutely put 
away her trouble, whatever it was, and be in her 
usual good spirits again. 

He had given up the idea of speaking to her 
about it, for he had the feeling that ‘‘Marigold 
could manage her own affairs,’’ and if she chose 
to keep them to herself she had a right to. Also, 
the chances were that she would, in spite of 
him. 

It did not occur to him to consult Mary. If 
he had, it is possible that she could have solved 
the mystery for him: she had seen that look on 
Marigold’s face before — on the day when Larry 
struck her, back in McGowan’s Lane 1 

Yes, it was Larry again. 

For a year and more, since he had fled from 
South Berket after his attempt to rob the Mering- 
ton house, no one there had seen or heard of Larry 


194 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


Murray, the big, surly step-brother, — the 
only person of whom Marigold had ever been 
afraid. 

A year is a long time to a little girl, and she 
had rarely thought of him, in her happy life with 
the Meringtons; and yet she had not felt a mo- 
ment’s doubt when, as she raised her happy, 
careless eyes in the theatre, she found herself 
looking straight into his. 

He had known her, too, she was sure of it; 
although when she first saw him he was merely 
staring at her with an expression of stupid wonder 
and perplexity. But as she looked she saw the 
recognition leap into his face, and he leaned for- 
ward with the sudden, savage lowering of his 
sullen brows which made her heart shrink once 
more as it had often shrunk in past days. 

Larry hated her ; — she believed he had always 
hated her, although she had never meddled with 
his things as the boys did, and tried only to keep 


LARRY 


195 


out of his way; and that fierce look proved that 
he had no more love for her now. 

Did he know — oh, did he know — that it was 
she who had spoiled his plans on that last dreadful 
night — who had waked the Meringtons, and so 
forced him to leave the town in fear of arrest ? 

If he had found her out — ! She did not forget 
his bitter temper, and how revengeful he could be, 
even to a child. 

When she had snatched Mary’s necklace from 
his hand, had he not sworn to make her sorry for 
it ? And was not that revenge still waiting ? 

Of course she did not flatter herself that the 
burglary had been planned solely for the purpose 
of punishing her, — but even there she had 
thwarted him again — and now he had come back ! 
Marigold was naturally plucky,” and also 
buoyant, — she could not brood over troubles all 
the time. She also had pretty good sense, when 
she did not let herself get into a panic; so for 


196 


MARIGOLD^S WINTER 


most of the time she was able to tell herself that 
her fears were nonsense; Larry could not harm 
her now; and it was very unlikely she should 
ever see him again. 

So Christmas week was not spoiled for her by 
the encounter, and her enjoyment of the cousins’ 
visit was genuine and hearty. It was only once 
in awhile that a sudden remembrance of the surly 
face and the ugly intentness of its look would 
spring into her mind and make her wince with the 
old, shrinking fear of him. 

Toward the end of the week Rod, catching sight 
of her face again at a moment when she thought 
no one was near, changed his mind once more about 
interfering. 

It was not like Marigold, he reflected, to be 
afraid of anything, — it must mean something 
serious to make her look like that. And girls didn’t 
really know much, though she was about the 
brightest of the lot; so if she was in any real 


LARRY 


197 


trouble somebody ought to jump in and pull her 
out. 

Somebody, in this instance, seemed to be him- 
self ; so when he saw a chance he did jump in, in 
his own cool way. 

It was at Dorothy and Gilbert's party that he 
came to his decision; a real party, with an or- 
chestra, and flowers, and everything delightfully 
grown up. It was almost their first party for 
Marigold and Mary, and they were in a state of 
enchantment. 

Marigold's dark thoughts were soon banished 
again, and when Rodney next caught sight of her 
she seemed to be in the gayest spirits. 

She was sharing a philopena she had found 
among the almonds with Gilbert, and laughing 
as though she had never had a trouble in the world, 
when Rodney joined them and, without any 
unnecessary words or argument, calmly possessed 
himself of Gilbert's share of the almond. 


198 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


Naturally Gilbert resented this bare-faced rob- 
bery, and the rules of hospitality did not restrain 
him from saying so with emphasis; but while he 
objected Rodney ate the philopena. 

‘‘ Now I’ve got you ! ” he said significantly to 
the laughing Marigold. You’ve got to give me 
anything I want.” 

Gilbert, still somewhat ruffled, was quick to 
dispute this outrageous claim, but was coolly 
informed that he was not in this now, and there- 
fore had no right to an opinion, — which certainly 
did seem rather unfair. 

Marigold promised recklessly. She knew well 
enough that Rod would catch her, — he always 
did; and sure enough in less than ten minutes 
she had fallen into his carefully laid trap. 

She was very curious to know what forfeit he 
meant to claim, but he would not tell her, al- 
though she teased him all the evening ; and it was 
not until the next afternoon that she found out. 


LARRY 


199 


She had a little headache that day — a most 
unusual thing for her. 

The mothers said that the excitement and 
fatigue of the party had been too much for her, 
and that they did not much believe in dancing 
parties for children anyway. 

Then they tucked her up comfortably in the 
gray shawl on the big couch in the library and 
told her to take a nap while they took the other 
children over to the museum (a palace of delight !) 
— for Marigold begged earnestly that no one 
should stay at home for her, though Elizabeth 
offered and Mary pleaded to remain. So presently 
the big house was very quiet, and she was all alone. 

A little later, as she lay, not at all sleepy, but 
gazing into the fire with sombre eyes. Rod strolled 
in and sat down beside her couch. 


CHAPTER XIV 


ROD TO THE RESCUE 

He waved aside her inquiries and surprise that 
he had not gone out with Gilbert, and came directly 
to business. 

I’m ready now to collect that forfeit you owe 
me.” 

Then now you will have to tell me what it is,” 
she said, laughing. “ What do you want. Rod? ” 
‘‘ I want you to tell me what has been the matter 
with you all this week,” he said bluntly. 

Marigold looked surprised, then confused. 
“ That’s not fair ! — that isn’t giving you any- 
thing,” she protested. 

“ Yes, it is — it is giving me information,” he 

argued. ‘‘You said ‘ anything I wanted.’ Come 

now, you promised — now pay up.” 

200 


ROD TO THE RESCUE 


201 


She knew well enough what he meant, for she 
had been thinking of Larry at the moment Rod 
came in ; but she felt very reluctant to explain, — 
Marigold never could bear to talk about her 
troubles. It was with some difficulty that he got 
it out of her. 

Rod had never seen Larry, and had heard very 
little about the burglary affair ; so it was necessary 
to go a long way back to make the story clear — 
a difficult task for poor Marigold. 

And when he did understand the situation at 
last, Rodney was not precisely sympathetic. He 
seemed to find it hard to believe that she could 
have been so silly as to suppose that Larry Murray 
could or would go out of his way to injure her now, 
whatever he might have done when they lived 
together in the same house. 

‘‘ But you don^t know Larry — and you didn’t 
see the way he looked at me,” she defended herself 
feebly, crushed by his boyish scorn. ‘‘When 


202 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


Larry says he’ll get even with anybody he always 
does ! and he hasn’t got even with me yet for the 
gold beads. 

Besides,” she went on quickly, as he started 
to speak, — when he tried to pay me off that 
last time, it was not I — it was they — he was 
going to harm! 

I don’t suppose he meant to steal their things 
just for that alone — to pay me off ; but he knew 
it would hurt me, because I loved them so. That 
was what he had hinted at. Suppose he should 
try it again — mamma and papa — or Mary!” 

She was very nervous, and her voice was begin- 
ning to shake; but Rodney was too much in 
earnest himself to notice it or to spare her. 

But what could he do^ you goose? ” he argued 
impatiently. ‘‘ Don’t you suppose they can take 
care of themselves, and you too ? ” 

But they don’t know — ” she faltered. 

“ Well, why don’t you tell ’em then, and give 


ROD TO THE RESCUE 


203 


’em the chance ? ” retorted masculine common 
sense. 

Marigold hesitated, confused by her own argu- 
ments. 

Because — I s’pose — I didn’t quite believe 
he would,” she began, struggling to keep back 
her tears. At least, not all of the time. I was 
only afraid — ” 

“ That is to say,” Rod interrupted, quite out 
of patience, — “ you have been getting up a grand 
scare just for the fun of being scared ! 

“ It seems to me you haven’t got much sense. 
Mary would have known better ; she’d have gone 
straight to her father, and he’d fix things in a jiffy ! 
Why, if you thought there even might be anything 
wrong, I don’t think you are playing fair with 
Aunt May and Uncle Bob.” 

That was the last straw — it broke Marigold’s 
heart. 

She had a good deal of sense in spite of Rodney’s 


204 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


poor opinion; and she could not help feeling the 
truth of all he said. 

She might perhaps have defended herself ; 
for, much as she loved the dear new father and 
mother, she had not Mary’s life-long habit of 
going to them with everything, good or bad, that 
happened to her. On the contrary, her very 
different life had taught her to stand alone and 
depend on herself as far as she possibly could. 

Self-reliant and spunky ” by nature, she had 
also been thoroughly trained in a very severe 
school of conduct — the school of Tim and Johnny 
Murray. Stealing was bad, and lying was worse ; 
but the deepest possible depth of disgrace was to 
be a cry baby, a fraid cat, or a tattle-tale. 

But Marigold made no attempt to defend 
herself. 

She was feeling ill and nervous, to begin with, 
and her self-control had been badly shaken by the 
effort of telling her story at all. She felt ashamed 


ROD TO THE RESCUE 


205 


and convicted of utter foolishness; but she was 
also pitying herself very much, and to be scolded, 
on top of all her other woes, did really seem too 
bad. 

So, without intention, she avenged herself, 
and punished Rod swiftly and sufficiently for 
his unsympathetic severity, by burying her face 
in her little handkerchief and bursting into tears. 

Rod’s dismay would have been funny if there 
had been any one there to see it. 

“ For goodness’ sake, don’t ! ” he expostulated. 
“ Here, hold on, — I didn’t mean any — ” 

But Marigold had begun and couldn’t stop. 
She almost never cried, but when she did she put 
her whole heart into it. 

I didn’t mean to be a fool,” she sobbed. I 
thought I was trying to be brave. Oh, how I 
hate to be afraid ! ” and she struck the pillow 
passionately with her little clenched fist. But 
how could I help remembering — ?” 


206 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


Rodney was quite at his wits’ end. He took 
back everything he had said, — he tried patting 
her back ; then he went in search of his mother’s 
smelling-salts. 

He seemed to remember having read somewhere 
something about burnt feathers and cold water, — 
but he was not sure whether those remedies were 
intended for precisely this sort of attack, and 
preferred not to run any risks. 

Finally, he fell back on the unfailing masculine 
resource of argument; and when this produced 
not the slightest visible effect, he gave it up, and 
sat in silent despair. 

At last Marigold grew calmer, and began to 
consider that if Rodney had thought her silly 
before, he could not think her present behavior 
much less so. 

She moved the little wet handkerchief just 
enough to steal a timid glance at him. 

Rodney sat with both elbows on his knees. 


ROD TO THE RESCUE 


207 


gazing ruefully at her. In one hand he grasped 
the gold-topped smelling-bottle, and the other 
held a folded newspaper fan. His forehead was 
wrinkled into a series of anxious parallels, and he 
looked desperately worried and unhappy. 

It was a pathetic picture, but it only moved 
Marigold to a little hysterical giggle; and at the 
sound Rodney took courage for a fresh effort. 
This time he tried coaxing. 

“ Now look here, Marigolden, — if you will 
just quit this, and be a sensible girl, I’ll tell you 
what we can do. 

If you don’t believe me, will you believe Dick 
Saunders? ” 

Marigold took away the handkerchief and looked 
faintly inquiring. 

“You say he knows this Larry — used to go 
with the same set. Well, now, if I tell Dick all 
about your seeing the fellow — it is to-night he 
is coming to dinner, isn’t it ? — and if he tells you 


208 


MARIGOLD^S WINTER 


it’s all foolishness being afraid of him, — will that 
set your mind at rest ? ” 

Marigold was not exactly sure that to be told 
again that she was a fool would be very soothing ; 
but still she had great faith in Dick — big, strong, 
friendly Dick. 

In her secret heart she believed that she could 
make Dick understand her feelings much better 
than Rod could. But she shrank so from going 
over the whole painful story again, and she felt 
so tired and sick, that she was ready to submit 
meekly to anything he might propose; and she 
consented to let him consult Dick that same eve- 
ning, and promised to tell mamma herself before 
she went to bed. 

That’s a good girl ! ” said Rod in great relief, 
putting down his fan and offering her the salts. 

Now I’ll clear out, and you’d better be getting 
to sleep quick, if you are going to have a nap 
before the girls get back.” 


ROD TO THE RESCUE 


209 


She did not want the salts, but like a real little 
woman she took them to please him, and thanked 
him with a tremulous smile ; and Rodney patted 
her back once more, approvingly, and departed, 
quite believing that this last very sensible piece of 
advice would be immediately followed. 

Of course, though, it was impossible to sleep; 
but an hour later when the girls came in, rosy- 
cheeked and cheerful, clustering around her with 
sympathizing inquiries, they found her eyes much 
brighter and a general air of relief and cheer 
about her. 

Perhaps the relief of her worry had done as 
much good as the nap would have done ; for her 
headache was better, and she was ready now to 
enjoy Dick^s visit. 

Dick was already a prime favorite with all of 
them ; even Elinor declared he was just splendid. 
His ready good humor and boyish spirits made it 
easy to adapt himself to their years*, and when he 


210 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


was playing and laughing with them he really 
seemed no older than Gilbert or Rod. 

After dinner they played some of the new 
Christmas games ; and Rod, who had his promise 
to Marigold on his mind, found it hard to get a 
chance for the private interview he wanted. 

At last, by a stratagem, they hid themselves in the 
dining-room, and the story was hastily but clearly 
enough told, before the laughing girls broke in 
upon them and took possession of Dick again. 

His jolly laugh and the kind, quizzical look in 
his eyes gave Marigold the reassurance she wanted, 
and she felt comforted and protected even before 
he took the opportunity, as he kissed her good 
night, to whisper that he was going to make it 
all right to-morrow, and she was to go to sleep 
and not to bother her little head another bit about 
it. 

Dick Saunders really was a good fellow — he 
considered it quite worth while to give some time 


ROD TO THE RESCUE 


211 


and trouble to set a child’s mind at peace; and 
he determined to devote all the time he could get 
to-morrow to looking up that scamp of a Murray.” 

So this was the reason why he was letting himself 
into his boarding-house and running briskly up- 
stairs to his room at an unusually early hour on 
the following afternoon. 

As his head rose above the level of the last land- 
ing he noticed that his room door was standing 
open; for a broad bar of dusty sunlight slanted 
across the passage and gilded the dingy paper on 
the opposite wall. 

The little room was flooded with the deep, warm 
gold of the winter afternoon sun, and for a mo- 
ment his dazzled eyes did not recognize the figure 
that rose quickly, in a nervous flurry, from the 
rocking-chair beside the western window. 

It was Mrs. Belden ; and while she stammered 
out her confused explanations and apologies for 
the liberty she was taking, Dick’s eyes took in 


212 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


with amused curiosity the novel aspect of his 
bare little room. 

The comfortable, shabby, old willow rocker 
was not his — it had a womanish look. 

A big, old-fashioned work-basket stood on his 
writing-table, and along the window-sill were 
ranged a row of spools, scissors, daming-egg and 
needle-cushion. The place looked actually cosy 
and lived-in. 

‘‘Why, of course, Mrs. Belden, you are per- 
fectly welcome to come in here every day if you 
like I ” he said heartily, in response to her inco- 
herent explanations about her poor eyes, and her 
room being so dark afternoons, and the better 
light for sewing at this window. 

She was gathering up a heap of work from the 
bed, evidently hoping to conceal it in her apron 
before he should notice it; but Dick’s eyes were 
too quick. The pile was composed of his own 
stockings ! 



“ SHE WAS GATHERING UP A HEAP OF WORK, EVIDENTLY 
HOPING TO CONCEAL IT.” 






I 


! 


ROD TO THE RESCUE 


213 


Then it was Dick’s turn to blush and stammer. 

“ Why, really, Mrs. Belden, this is awfully kind 
of you ! You ought not to take such a lot of trouble 
for me — ” he began : but Mrs. Belden suddenly 
dropped the pile of mending on the counterpane 
again, and faced him with the desperate courage 
of a timid little animal that finds itself in a corner. 

“ Now, Mr. Saunders, don’t you say a word ; — 
there’s nothing to thank me for. You don’t know 
what a pleasure it is to a lonely, useless person 
like me, without a soul but myself to think of, 
to find something I can do for somebody ! ” 
There were real tears of earnestness in her eyes. 

Dick could partly understand her* feeling ; but 
he did not understand that his own little pink 
azalea bush was bearing this new strange fruit, and 
it was with the simplest gratitude that he an- 
swered warmly: 

And you don’t know what it is to a lonely 
young chap like me, to have somebody doing things 


214 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


for him ! It feels mighty homelike, I can tell you. 

“ Now please don’t disturb yourself, — I am 
going right out again. I only came in to leave 
these ; ” and before Mrs. Belden could do more 
than make an uncertain motion toward her spools 
and scissors, he had put down his bag, picked up 
his overcoat, and was running down-stairs again, 
laughing to himself. 

Poor ‘ Aunt Emily,’ how scared she was, 
to be caught at it ! But what an old dear, to darn 
a fellow’s stockings for him, — that’s the kind of 
an aunt to have ! 

And now for a little detective business and Mr. 
Laurence Murray ! ” 


CHAPTER XV 
dick’s poor lady 

Dick was not at all sure of success in finding 
Larry himself; — that young man would, most 
likely, be laying low ” as Dick put it. With 
a possible arrest for burglary hanging over him, 
he would of course keep carefully away from his 
old haunts. 

What Dick intended was to hunt up some of 
‘‘ the old crowd ” whom they both knew, who 
would know his whereabouts if any one did, — 
and what he confidently hoped and expected was 
to discover that Larry had already left town again. 

But as it happened, he ran up against the very 
man he wanted, Larry himself, almost at once. 

Larry was staying, he found, with the old- 
216 


216 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


time chum whom he had selected as the most 
hopeful source of information. 

There was not much change in Larry, either for 
better or worse, in the year that had passed since 
his flight from Berket, and Dick looked in vain 
for the ugly scowl which had so shocked poor 
Marigold. 

Larry was very good-natured and friendly, 
seemed genuinely glad to see him again, and 
described his adventures with perfect frankness. 

After his last escapade in South Berket he had 
come directly to the city and shipped on a cattle 
steamer, as the quickest and easiest way of dis- 
appearing from public view. 

Since then he had been drifting about on 
different steamer lines, and was now a stoker, — 
a much better job. In fact he seemed to regard 
himself as quite a respectable and prosperous 
person. 

He had even gone out to Berket once — ‘‘ to 


DICK’S POOR LADY 


217 


take some kickshaws he got in England to the old 
woman and the kids, for Christmas,” he explained, 
a little shamefacedly; but Dick gathered that it 
was an evening call, and had not been repeated. 
Larry had no wish to run against Constable 
Barstow, or to refresh the memories of his other 
Berket acquaintances. 

He was stopping in the city only between voy- 
ages, and would be sailing again in a day or two. 

Dick had not meant to say anything about 
Marigold ; but Larry himself presently introduced 
the subject. 

He had been very much astonished and puzzled 
by the sight of his little stepsister, Mary Murray, 
in her dainty white dress, and in such fine com- 
pany ; for he had known nothing of her adoption 
by the Meringtons until he went to Berket, some 
days after his visit to the theatre. 

Dick soon perceived that the frown which 
Marigold’s fears had so magnified had meant 


218 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


nothing more than that, — astonishment and per- 
plexity. Larry’s brows were heavy, and his face, 
even at its best, was not a particularly amiable 
one to look at. 

He had read her face better, — the theatre 
was small and the distance between them had not 
been great; and he was curious to know why 
the kid was scared to death at the sight of 
him. 

Dick told him why — rather bluntly, for Dick’s 
sympathies were with Marigold. 

He did not betray her connection with that last 
stormy night’s work ; there was no need for Larry 
to know that, for the matter of the gold beads was 
enough in itself to explain her fear; it was not a 
pretty incident. 

But Larry took it all as a very good joke, and 
laughed. 

Why, what would I want to harm her for? ” 
he asked in genuine wonder. ‘‘Mary’s a good 


DICK’S POOR LADY 


219 


enough sort, if she is a pepper-pot. You tell her 
she’s no need to be scared of me. 

Look here,” he added with a sudden inspira- 
tion, '' suppose I send her a present ; that ought 
to square her. Here, you tell her I brought her 
this from London.” 

The flag of truce he selected looked more like 
a battle flag, perhaps ; for it was a woollen necker- 
chief, printed like an Indian shawl, in the most 
gorgeous Oriental colors. But Dick gladly took 
charge of it, and promised to deliver it with Larry’s 
message of peace (at least, the truthful part 
thereof). 

They urged him to stay with them, promising' 
him a jolly evening, but Dick had no taste for 
their sort of jollity, and he said good-by and got 
away as soon as he could with civility. 

When he went up to his room that evening, the 
traces of Mrs. Belden’s visit had nearly all dis- 
appeared. The sociable spools were gone from 


220 


MARIGOLD^S WINTER 


the window-sill, and the work-basket from the 
table. 

But the comfortable, shabby, old rocking-chair 
was not gone, and he guessed that she had left it 
for his comfort. On the bed, too, lay the pile of 
mended and neatly folded stockings. 

He sank down in the cushioned depths of the 
chair and picked up one of the stockings to inspect 
her work, — amused, and pleased, and grateful, 
all at once. 

Dick was only a man, — and not the useful kind 
of man that can do such things for himself, either, 
— but even a man could see, with one glance at 
that heel, that this was not the sort of darning 
he had ever seen before. This was art 1 

The threads were so finely and smoothly woven 
he could hardly see where stocking left off and 
darn began. His much abused hose were as good 
as new — even a little better. 

The next morning he thanked Mrs. Belden 


DICK’S POOR LADY 


221 


again for her friendly service, and complimented 
her on her beautiful work, truthfully declaring 
he had never seen anything like it. 

The poor lady flushed to the eyes and looked 
fairly happy at his praise. 

‘‘ Why that was nothing extra,” she protested ; 
“ and I just enjoyed doing it. I love to sew; and 
I used be a masterhand at all kinds of fine needle- 
work.” 

“ I wonder you don’t do something of that sort — 
— as a business,” said Dick frankly. ‘‘There 
must be plenty of people who want it in a city 
like this. Why don’t you try it?” 

She smiled sadly, and shook her head. “ I 
have tried,” she said, sighing; “ but there are too 
many women like me, in such a big city, who 
don’t know how to do anything else. There is no 
chance for a stranger.” 

“ Well, you know how to do that all right, — 
that’s a sure thing! ” said Dick consolingly; and 


222 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


he went off to the office with a new idea in his 
head. 

He made his dinner call at the Meringtons’ 
very promptly, for he not only wanted to give 
Marigold her present, and report his interview 
with Larry, — he had another purpose also ; 
he wanted a little talk with Mrs. Merington. 

Marigold had kept her promise to tell mamma 
all about her doubts and fears, and had been 
soothed and cheered by her tender reassurances. 

Now Larry’s astonishing present, and Dick’s 
good account of him, removed the last shadow of 
her trouble. Once more she was the happiest 
child in the whole world. 

This was the last of her Christmas gifts, and by 
no means the least. Indeed, it presently formed 
one of the chief ornaments of the children’s room, 
in the shape of a splendid sofa-pillow, and as often 
as Marigold saw it it repeated its comforting mes- 
sage of peace and security. 


DICK’S POOR LADY 


223 


It had another message, which was also good for 
her, although not quite so pleasant. 

Marigold was, as her father had said, ‘‘ a born 
leader.” She certainly did like to manage other 
people, and make them do things her way. 

Rodney was much larger and older than she, 
and because of that, and because she admired 
him and was so proud of being liked by him, it 
was natural that she should feel a little self-satis- 
faction in knowing that in their quarrel he had 
been in the wrong and she had put him right. 

But Marigold was a very honest little girl — 
honest with herself as well as others — and to be 
made to see, as she did now, that she herself could 
be foolish, and need Rodney’s good sense to 
straighten out her tangle, was not a bad lesson for 
her. 

The visiting cousins had now returned to New 
York and the family were again alone; so there 
was a nice chance for that little talk Dick wanted. 


224 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


The children naturally felt a trifle flat after 
the excitement of the long visit, and they hung 
about their friend more quietly than usual while 
he talked with mamma. 

What he wished to know about was sewing — 
fine sewing. 

Mamma Merington opened her beautiful eyes 
wide, and laughed at him; but Dick was very 
much in earnest. 

No, but really, — didn’t she have a lot of 
such work to be done, for the house and the chil- 
dren? 

“My dear boy, you cannot possibly imagine 
haw much ! ” she sighed, still laughing. 

Then Dick began to tell her about Mrs. Belden 
— of whom she had already heard, through the 
children, after the occasion of the fudge. 

He described the beauty of those darns with 
such earnestness and enthusiasm that she laughed 
again, irrepressibly; but she was very sympa- 


DICK^S POOR LADY 


225 


thetic and interested, and willingly agreed to do 
anything that was possible to help. 

There was a whole new set of tablecloths and 
napkins, waiting to be French-hemmed, that very 
minute, — and always something to be done 
about the children’s clothes. The children, lis- 
tening and silent, smiled with the vague but 
pleasant perception that by the simple and easy 
process of outgrowing their clothes they were 
helping ‘‘ Dick’s poor lady.” 

Of course Mrs. Merington could not be unfair 
to her present seamstress ; but by speaking to one 
or two friends she was sure that could be made 
all right, and the work divided. She would see 
about it, and would call on Mrs. Belden herself 
as soon as possible. 

She kept her word; and at their own earnest 
request — for they were both deeply interested 
in Dick’s poor lady — she took the twins with her. 

The sight of them, sitting side by side in their 


226 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


blue coats and hats on Mrs. Frost’s blue plush 
sofa, seemed to Mrs. Belden as she entered the 
parlor one of the pleasantest pictures she had ever 
seen. 

She was fully as much interested in the little 
pair as in the welcome offer of emplo)mient, and 
turned eagerly, when the discussion of business 
was finished, to try in her shy, pathetic way to 
make friends with them. 

It was not difficult; they also were all ready 
and willing to be friends, and before many minutes 
they were standing beside her, chattering away 
as sociably as possible. 

They told her all about Dick’s Christmas 
presents, and she, in return, told them of the little 
pink azalea, to their great delight. 

Mamma too was touched and pleased by the 
little story. ‘^What a dear, thoughtful fellow he 
is ! ” she said ; and Mrs. Belden fervently agreed 
with her. 


DICK’S POOR LADY 


227 


The matter of the fine sewing was quickly and 
most satisfactorily settled. Mrs. Belden was glad 
to agree to any terms proposed, and could hardly 
believe in her good fortune, to be earning so much 
money by doing the work she liked best. 

When they went away the children kissed her, 
and begged her when she came to see mamma 
to come in the afternoon, when they were at home 
from school. 

It was a quaint friendship, but it lasted. Mrs. 
Belden loved children, and had sadly missed her 
little nieces. Her heart went out to these sweetly 
friendly little people; and they, perhaps feeling 
her need of their love, responded with readiest 
affection. 

By her request, and with mamma’s permission, 
they soon learned to call her ‘‘ Aunt Emily ” — 
the endearing name she had not heard for so 
long ; and when she came to the house about the 
sewing, they claimed her as their visitor, and held 


228 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


long confidential conversations, leaning against 
her knees or sitting close beside her before the 
library fire. 

It was on one of these occasions Mary learned 
a fact which excited great interest and curiosity 
in her little mind. 

That evening she popped in between papa and 
his paper, in the way they both enjoyed so well, 
and laid her perplexities before him. 

“Papa, please tell me what is a mortgage?” 

“ A mortgage ! Where in the world have you 
picked up that word, Marykin?” (Papa was 
apt, when Mary took his breath away like this, 
to answer her question with another.) 

“ It is Aunt Emily’s, papa, — she has one on 
her farm. It is a very poor old farm, but it has a 
big wood-lot, and a house and two bams, a big 
one and a little one, and this mortgage on it. 
And Marigold thinks it must be some kind of 
animal, because Mrs. Belden says it takes so 


DICK’S POOR LADY 


229 


much interest, — but I wasn’t sure, and I wanted 
to know. 

“ Anyway, it is something very unpleasant, and 
she wishes it wasn’t there; because she is going 
to sell the farm and then she is afraid it will eat 
up all the money! And she won’t have any left, 
just think ! 

It seemed to make her feel bad, so I thought 
I wouldn’t ask her any questions, — I’d just wait 
and ask you. But why should she let it eat up her 
money, papa — and what kind of an animal is 
it?” 

Mary paused to catch her breath, and papa 
stopped laughing to try to answer her questions. 

‘‘ But it is really a very serious matter, Robert 
dear,” said mamma, half reproachfully. Poor 
woman, no wonder she looks so despondent and 
harassed. I supposed the old place was sold 
when she left it. I wish we could do anything 
more to help her. Let me see, she might em- 


230 


MARIGOLD^S WINTER 


broider those — ’’ and mamma fell to musing, 
while papa seriously explained to Mary that the 
mortgage was a debt, — a sum of money which 
Mrs. Belden owed to somebody ; and if she could 
not pay it otherwise the farm must be sold in order 
to get the money to pay it with. 

I see,’’ sighed Mary, — and then she wouldn’t 
have the farm or the money or the mortgage either, 
— not anything at all ! Isn’t it too bad ! ” 


CHAPTER XVI 

MARY’S PLAN 

'‘Miss Mary, Mrs. Belden is here, and she 
wants to know if Mrs. Merington left any word 
for her about matching the doilies. Do you 
know ? ” 

Miss Mary sprang to her feet — she was sitting 
fiat on the floor — and from her lap dropped 
a shower of fish, large and small, one turtle, two 
frogs, an eel, and any number of polliwogs. 

They fluttered softly through the air, and fell 
silently to the floor, — for they were made of white 
paper, and the green carpet of the library was the 
lake in which they swam. 

The scissors which had made them fell too, with 

a little clash ; and in their fall they disarranged a 

lovely circular basin of the lake’s bed, bordered 
231 


232 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


with fringing grass and ferns, also cut from pa- 
per. 

Marigold’s place was close by, of course, and 
was like Mary’s, except that her taste ran more 
to water-lily pads, as being simpler in form, and 
therefore easier to cut out, than ferns. 

For the same reason she was fond of starfish 
and sea-urchins, and her pool was a strange 
mingling of salt and fresh-water creatures, the 
flounder and the horn-pouts living sociably as 
next-door neighbors. 

We are coming, Ellen, — we’ll come right 
down. Please don’t step on the turtle. Oh, 
Marigold, now we will tell her our plan and ask 
her if she won’t. Oh, won’t it be nice if she will ! ” 

They ran down-stairs together, and welcomed 
Mrs. Belden with a joyful eagerness that warmed 
her heart. 

The lonely woman was already very fond of 
both the friendly, affectionate little girls, and when 


MARY^S PLAN 


233 


they begged her to come up and make them a 
visit since their mother was not at home, she was 
really glad to do so. 

They put her in the big chair before the fire, 
and then leaned comfortably over either arm of 
it to talk to her. 

‘‘For we have something very important to 
ask you,’’ they said. 

“ We were going to tell mamma as soon as she 
came home, and ask her some things; but you 
came first, so we think we’d better not lose any 
time, — because it’s so important ! ” 

They had begun together, as usual, in their 
hurry to lay their plan before her; but Marigold 
suddenly stopped herself, with generous deter- 
mination. 

“ It is all Mary’s idea, every bit of it, — she 
thought of it first; so she ought to have the tell- 
ing,” she declared; and Mary began, with an 
almost solemn sense of personal responsibility. 


234 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


Now, to begin at the very first beginning — 
— papa always says I begin in the middle and 
talk both ways — the very first thing is, would 
you like to adopt a grandfather? ” 

Mrs. Belden fairly gasped. She had not ex- 
pected a beginning which so directly concerned 
herself. 

Before she had time to ask a question Marigold 
struck in, quite forgetting her heroic resolution 
to keep still. 

He is very old, but he is awfully nice — ” 

And he doesn’t like the country any more 
than you do, because his feet are cold and there 
aren’t any books there,” Mary added. 

Mrs. Belden put one hand to her head and 
waited for more light. 

Oh, I forgot,” said Mary, going a little way 
back of the beginning, as she noticed their visitor’s 
bewilderment. ‘‘ You don’t know who it is, do 
you? We mean Grampavance.” 


MARY’S PLAN 


235 


Then Mrs. Belden collected her wits and began 
to recall what Dick Saunders had told her about 
his skating trips, and the dear old gentleman, and 
the people he lived with; while still the rippling 
flood of Mary’s speech poured on. 

And Dick said you said you would be so 
happy if you had a little, warm house all alone ” 
(Mary was too delicate to repeat all Dick had said, 
about her wwhappiness in a big, cold house), “ so 
we thought why couldn’t you let Mrs. Pepperell 
have your farm, and you take her house, and then 
Grampavance stay right where he is, and you 
adopt him and take care of him. Wouldn’t that 
be nice, don’t you think. Aunt Emily? ” 

Two pairs of eyes, wistful gray and shining 
brown, were fixed on Mrs. Belden’s face, watching 
in breathless anxiety for some sign of approval 
or displeasure. 

But Mrs. Belden’s face hadn’t any expression 
at all on it at that moment. She seemed dazed 


236 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


by the suddenness and eagerness of their appeal, 
and their hopeful expectation that she would 
instantly fall in with their plan. 

If her sober, monotonous habit of life and 
thought had been a plant in a fiower-pot, and 
somebody had knocked it off the shelf, she could 
not have felt more upset and scattered than she 
was by this startling proposal. 

The proposers of it went on eagerly, without a 
pause. 

“You haven’t any grandfather, you know, and 
Grampavance hasn’t anybody at all,” Mary 
urged, “ and this way you would both have a 
family. Don’t you think it is nice to adopt people ? 
We've been so happy since we adopted Marigold,” 
— and her twin sister’s clear, honest eyes answered 
her loving smile across the arms of the big 
chair. 

Still Mrs. Belden found nothing to say, beyond 
one or two bewildered questions, which brought 


MARY’S PLAN 


237 


out a few plain facts about the Pepperells’ plans 
and wishes. 

These helped to steady her mind a little, but 
still she felt helplessly confused between the 
alluring picture they were drawing of quiet home 
comfort, and her own hopeless conviction of its 
impossibility. Anything so pleasant must be 
impossible. 

Mrs. Belden was not naturally hopeful, and 
her sad experience had led her to believe only in 
the unpleasant possibilities of life. 

She now presented the first and gravest objection 
that occurred to her grown-up mind. (Grown-ups 
always think so quickly of all the objections to 
nice plans!) 

But the Pepperells wouldn’t want my farm. 
You don’t know what a lonesome, out-of-the-way 
old place it is, — and all run out, the way it is, 
too,” she said. 

‘‘ Yes, but Mrs. Pepperell says she is ready to 


238 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


take ’most anything now, she is so discouraged 
about finding what she wants,” Marigold hastened 
to assure her — and then stopped, conscience- 
stricken, to consider whether that sounded quite 
polite. She went on hurriedly, She says that 
all she asks is that there aren’t any trolley cars 
whizzing and banging around, and the neighbors’ 
washing won’t blow over into her back yard as 
often as Monday comes around.” 

“Well, I guess my place would just suit her, 
then,” said Mrs. Belden, smiling and sighing to- 
gether. “ But then the difficulty would be on my 
side. It’s no use, dears, I never could afford to 
pay rent, never in the world, even if I sold the 
farm.” 

Mary in her turn hesitated between politeness 
and persistence — but they had planned it all out 
so beautifully. Marigold and she; it seemed so 
easy and so beautiful to them that she could not 
give it up. 


MARY’S PLAN 


239 


So — ‘‘There is Grampavance’s board, you 
know,” she suggested timidly. “ I don’t know 
just how much it is, but I think it must be pretty 
much, because mamma says it is ‘ such a re- 
sponsibility.’ ” 

Mrs. Belden smiled again at the long word, 
but still she shook her head. She was a grown-up, 
and the objections would crowd in. 

But the wonderful plan was a pleasant “ s’pose,” 
as the children called their make-believes, and 
for awhile she let them prattle on. 

She was just rising to go when a sudden cry, 
almost a little scream from Mary, made her drop 
into her chair again in her surprise. 

Mary’s eyes were so big with the splendor of her 
new plan that they looked fairly black, and her 
cheeks were like a wild rose in the rain. 

“ Oh^ how lovely ! You could have him too — 
why didn’t we think? ” she cried, incoherent with 
haste. “ You can adopt him too, for an aunt or 


240 


MARIGOLD^S WINTER 


something, and he said you must have been a nice 
kind of an aunt ! Wouldn’t it be splendid ? Oh, 
why doesn’t everybody adopt somebody, and 
all be happy? ” 

“What under the sun are you talking about, 
Mary?” gasped poor Mrs. Belden, — but Mari- 
gold was quicker to guess. 

“ Dick ! Dick ! ” she cried, and clasped her 
hands in delight. 

Mrs. Belden stared at them both, almost over- 
come by the rush of their swift changes and im- 
provements; but the little girls, whose daily food 
was new ideas, big or little, just as it happened, 
instantly adopted this new and most charming 
one, and began at once to fill in the picture, 
s’posing every detail in their favorite fashion. 

In three minutes they had their imaginary 
household so thoroughly planned out that Mrs. 
Belden felt as though the first month’s rent were 
already due. 


MARY’S PLAN 


241 


‘‘ And you will all be so happy and comfy,” 
cooed Mary rapturously. Don’t you love Dick, 
Aunt Emily, — he is so dear and good?” 

He is the best young man I ever saw,” an- 
swered Mrs. Belden heartily, and laughing out- 
right at the summary way they were disposing of 
him, but how do you know he wants to be 
adopted ? ” 

Oh, I am sure he will.” Marigold said con- 
fidently, “because he hates — I mean he would 
love to live in a little house, instead of any board- 
ing-house.” 

(It was Aunt Emily’s cousin Sarah’s boarding- 
house, and nothing but good must be spoken of it.) 

“Well, we’d better not settle it to-day,” said 
Mrs. Belden at last, rising as she spoke. “ It 
might be just as well to speak to Mr. Vance about 
it, and Mr. Saunders, too, before we adopt them; 
and it’s probable Mrs. Pepperell would have 
something to say about it, too.” 


242 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


She was picking her way among turtles and 
starfish toward the door. 

Yes,” the twins agreed, very seriously (though 
she had not really meant it), “ we will ask Mrs. 
Pepperell and Grampavance, and we will ask 
mamma, too, the very minute she comes home — 
and she can make it all come just right ! ” 

‘‘And oh, please, before you go — you lived 
in the country, so you know all about frogs, — 
won’t you please show me how a frog’s front feet 
go?” 

Mrs. Belden looked really alarmed for a mo- 
ment. She thought some new, strange sort of 
gymnastics was being asked of her. 

Then she saw that Marigold was holding up 
to her a little paper object, whose front feet 
certainly did look very funny. If they were really 
put on that way a frog would not be likely to 
“ go ” at all. 

Mrs. Belden laughed — a wonderfully cheerful, 



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MARY^S PLAN 


243 


hearty laugh it was, for her — and took the poor 
little frog in her hand to examine more closely. 

‘‘ Why, I am sure I never tried to make a frog 
in my life,’’ she said, ‘‘ but if you will give me a 
pencil I will see how much I can remember.” 

She put on her glasses and bent over the paper, 
quite absorbed in the effort to draw a proper 
frog; and the two pretty heads, copper-brown 
and black, bent also, close together, and almost 
between her and the paper, so intent were they 
on the result. 

It was at least a great improvement on Mari- 
gold’s attempt, and she took the scissors and cut 
it out with immense satisfaction. 

“ This is the mother frog,” she explained as 
she dropped on the carpet at Mrs. Belden’s feet 
to install the mother in her watery home, ‘‘ and 
these polliwogs are all her little children.” 

Mrs. Frog seemed to have a very large family, 
and when they were neatly arranged in a close 


244 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


ring around her, all the little tails pointing outward, 
they formed a very pleasing domestic circle. 

Mrs. Belden was interested, and quite pleased 
by her success in this new art. 

‘‘Now I ought to make something for Mary, 
too; what shall it be? ” she offered rashly. 

She had got herself into difficulty now, to be 
sure ; for Mary’s choice wavered between a flying- 
fish and an alligator, with neither of which strange 
creatures was Aunt Emily acquainted. 

While she was still wrestling with the problem, 
the children acting as very earnest but hardly 
helpful critics, the street door opened and closed 
again without their hearing it, and presently dear 
Mamma Merington walked in upon them, pretty 
and rosy in her winter wraps and furs. 

She did not seem much surprised at the tumul- 
tuous ardor of the children’s welcome. They were 
usually overflowing with news and chatter after a 
few hours’ separation. 


MARY^S PLAN 


245 


Mamma was grown-up, of course, and she did 
sometimes see objections to the nicest plans; 
but she always saw the niceness first. 

When all the beauties of their wonderful scheme 
had been set before her, and she had laughed 
gently at their excitement and tried to calm their 
impatience, she surprised Mrs. Belden by begin- 
ning to question her seriously about the farm, — 
its size, the price, the mortgage, and so on. 

“ It is not absolutely impossible,’’ she said 
thoughtfully. “ I really think it might be worth 
while for Mr. Pepperell to see and talk with you, 
— though the place is larger than I think he wants. 
Still, if half of it is woodland — Well, we must 
see him first of all. If you could come to an agree- 
ment it would be so much better for you than to 
sell at auction.” 

Then as the twins’ excitement began to bubble 
up up anew she added, laughing, Don’t be in 
quite such a hurry, chickens, — everything can’t be 


246 


MARlGOLD^S WINTER 


done in a minute. You shall tell papa your plan 
this evening, and if he thinks best 'we will speak to 
Mr. Pepperell. Build all the air-castles you 
please, but remember we can’t move into them 
until we hear what Mr. Pepperell says.” 

They went on building the air-castles then — 
it was impossible not to. The idea which had 
started in Mary’s little head was taking possession 
of them all. They thought of a dozen ways in 
which it would be a benefit to all concerned ; and 
it was at least an hour later when Mrs. Belden 
went away, her head in a whirl, and quite forgetting 
the doilies. 

The children’s heads were so full of it they 
could think and talk of nothing else; and when 
papa came home they would not let him think or 
talk of anything else either, until he had con- 
sidered and discussed the plan in all its bearings. 

He thought, with mamma, it was just pos- 
sible ” the Pepperells might like at least to look 


MARY’S PLAN 


247 


at the place, and he agreed that if, by this or any 
other arrangement they could make. Grandpa 
Vance could be transferred to the care of Mrs. 
Belden (whose years of nursing her invalid father 
so well fitted her for the charge), “ it would be a 
good thing for everybody’s comfort, all around.” 

Mamma and Mrs. Belden had already given 
up the idea of exchanging houses, which had so 
pleased the children’s fancy, — a small flat here 
in the city would be much better for Mrs. Belden 
than the Pepperell’s suburban house. 

Then what the Meringtons would pay her for 
the care of Grandpa Vance — and Dick’s board, 
if he should become her boarder — and the saving 
on heating and lighting — 

Papa and mamma were quite absorbed in the 
discussion of these business and money sides of 
the question, which Mary and Marigold did not 
understand at all. 

But they did understand that their great plan 


248 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


was being considered quite seriously and respect- 
fully and they were jubilantly happy. 

Right here in the city ! We could go see 
them,” murmured Marigold. 

‘‘And she would cut us out animals, and all 
the fishes we wanted ! ” whispered Mary, whereat 
papa laughed and hugged her, and declared his 
belief that the whole thing was just an artful 
scheme of hers to stock her aquarium. 

“ And how much easier it would make my 
mind, dear, to have him so near, instead of away 
off in the country; and in such good hands, too,” 
mamma was saying, when she interrupted herself 
and broke off suddenly. 

“ If we talk another word about it this evening, 
these children will not go to sleep to-night. Look 
at their eyes ! Come, kiss papa good night, and 
then fly, chickens, fly ! ” 


CHAPTER XVII 


THE WORKING OUT OF IT 

The very next day — for if anything were to 
be done it must be done quickly — Mrs. Mering- 
ton went out to see Grandpa Vance, and had a 
talk with Mrs. Pepperell. 

Mr. Pepperell then came in town and talked 
with Mrs. Belden. Mrs. Belden talked with Dick 
Saunders. Everybody was talking at once. 

Next, Mr. Pepperell took a day or two out of 
the shop, and went up to see the farm. 

Everybody was in a dreadful state of suspense 
until he came home. The children could hardly 
eat or sleep. 

As for Dick, he was so charmed with the plan 
that his judgment, Mrs. Belden told him kindly 
but plainly, wasn’t worth a row of pins. He 

249 


250 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


was just about as childish as Mary and Marigold 
about it, and couldn’t be made to see that there 
were any obstacles in the way.” 

However, he was grown up enough to realize 
that the Pepperells might be obstacles if they 
did not like the farm — for if they did not, and it 
had to be sold at auction, the dreadful mortgage 
would really eat up ” so much of it, and Mrs. 
Belden had so very little money besides that she 
could hardly venture on taking a house of her 
own. 

So Dick awaited the verdict as anxiously as any 
of the rest. 

“ Well, Mrs. Merington, it’s like this,” Mrs. 
Pepperell reported at last. The place is larger, 
considerable larger, than what we’d made up our 
mouths for. And there’s no denying the land’s 
been skinned by that slack, shiftless critter that’s 
on it now. And the buildings are in pretty poor 
shape, and the barn’s got to be shingled before 
another winter. 


THE WORKING OUT OF IT 251 


But Mr. Pepperell he’s taken a terrible notion 
to the place, and he’s talked with the men around 
there ; and he thinks he can sell enough wood off 
that wood-lot to keep us going till we can get things 
into shape. 

He’s a good farmer, Mr. Pepperell is, and he 
says that land ain’t so poor as it looks to be now. 
A man with faculty ought to be able to make a 
good living there. But it stands to reason, Mrs. 
Merington, no farm was going to make a living 
for two sets of people — owner and tenant — and 
one of ’em here in the city, never laying eyes on it. 
If you expect to live off a farm you got to live on 
it!” 

The wide-eyed, listening children could hardly 
make out whether all this meant yes or no. Still, 
they felt pretty sure that, whatever form her ‘‘ yes ” 
might take, Mrs. Pepperell’s no ” would be 
unmistakable. 

So they hoped for the best ; and after another 


252 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


endlessly long period (or so it seemed to them) 
of talking and writing and waiting, it was actu- 
ally settled at last, and the Pepperells were going 
to be back “ on the land.” 

In reality, things had moved very swiftly. It 
was necessary ; for spring was coming, and that is 
the busiest time on a farm. The Pepperells must 
be on the spot and settled before spring work began. 

But Mrs. Pepperell said — and it was easy to 
believe her — that she was not one to let the grass 
grow under her feet when once her mind was 
made up; and in a remarkably short time her 
tidy house seemed to the delighted children to be 
inside out and upside down. 

They revelled in the confusion of the packing, 
and were always eager to accompany their mother 
when she went out to arrange for moving Grandpa 
Vance and his books and furniture. 

And Mrs. Belden was busy, too, in these days. 

It was really wonderful how nicely all the smaller 


THE WORKING OUT OF IT 253 


parts of the great plan fitted together. Some of 
Mrs. Belden’s old furniture — the things she had 
felt most unwilling to part with — was still stored 
up at the farm, and with the articles which be- 
longed to Mr. Vance would amply furnish the 
little flat she was to rent when she could find a 
suitable one within her means. 

Mrs. Merington was helpful here also, and 
they spent several mornings together, driving about 
from place to place in search of just the right 
thing at just the right price. 

At last an apartment was found which pleased 
them all. 

There was a pretty parlor, a large comfortable 
room for Grandpa^s bedroom and study, a smaller 
one for Dick; Mrs. Belden was to occupy the 
dining-room, and they would have their meals 
in the kitchen, which was unusually large and 
pleasant for a flat. 

This last arrangement seemed to the little girls 


264 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


especially cosy and attractive, and they cherished 
strong hopes of being invited there to tea. 

Of course they were taking a lively part in all 
the proceedings, wherever it was possible for them 
to get their little fingers into the pie. 

One day they came to Mrs. Belden with earnest, 
anxious faces. A new difficulty had arisen — 
which they stated in the manner which represented 
Mary’s idea of ‘‘ beginning at the very first 
beginning.” 

Aunt Emily, do you like cats? ” 

“ I love cats ! ” she answered, with more ani- 
mation than she often showed. I love them 
dearly. Why?” 

“ But are you sure you love them when they 
are big and sleepy, and don’t amount to a hill of 
beans?” persisted Marigold, carefully conscien- 
tious. She was too honest to allow dear Aunt 
Emily to be imposed on by false pretences, even 
though her own heart was set upon the matter. 


THE WORKING OUT OF IT 255 


“ Do you mean Mossy? ” inquired Mrs. Belden. 
She had met Demosthenes by this time, and she 
recognized the description. ‘‘What about him? 
Isn’t Mrs. Pepperell going to take him with her? ” 

“ No,” said Mary sorrowfully. “ You see she 
doesn’t really love him very much, and she says, 
lug that elephant a hundred miles in a basket she 
can’t and won’t ! ” 

“ And the lady who lives next door would take 
him if there wasn’t any other way ; but you know 
how fond he and Grampavance are of each other,” 
Marigold hinted. 

“Yes, but what could I do with him?” said 
Mrs. Belden doubtfully, and the hopeful faces 
fell. “ It is no place for pets, in a flat up three 
flights of stairs. A cat ought to be where he 
can get out-of-doors, and exercise.” 

“ No, not this cat,” returned Marigold tri- 
umphantly, “ for he won’t go out, — you can’t 
get him to go ! ” 


256 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


‘‘ Well, to be sure, there’s the fire-escape,” said 
Mrs. Belden reflectively; and the anxious faces 
brightened. He could sit in the sun and get 
the fresh air there. 

An)rw'ay, I never would part a full-grown cat 
from all the people he loves and is used to: it’s 
cruel and wicked ! ” she added with sudden 
energy. ‘‘ If Mossy is not to go with Mrs. Pepperell 
he must go with Mr. Vance, — that is all there is 
about it. We will manage somehow.” 

Mary slipped a coaxing arm about her neck. 

There now, that makes everything perfect ! 
Grampavance will be so much more comf’table 
with Mossy sitting around. And Mossy will be 
happy. I know he will love you — because we 
do ! ” she purred. 

So Mossy’s cause was won ; and the new house- 
hold now numbered four. 

Two of them. Mossy and Grandpa Vance, 
continued to take the affair very quietly, and 


THE WORKING OUT OF IT 257 


looked on at the bustle of packing and moving as 
placidly as if it concerned them not at all; but 
the others, Dick and his new landlady, led busy 
lives in those next two weeks. 

As soon as the new house was secured the next 
business was to get the furniture into it, and of 
this Dick took charge. (He said his moving 
could wait — he could bring over his pincushion 
and tie-box any time the rest were ready.) 

He went up to the farm and spent three arduous 
days packing and shipping the things stored there. 

When he came back he reported that it would 
be a jolly place up there for a summer vacation, but 
as a winter residence, — well, he agreed entirely 
with Mrs. Belden. 

Mrs. Belden herself spent happy, busy days 
alone in the flat, cleaning, polishing and arranging 
the dear, familiar old home belongings. They 
were old-fashioned and well worn, but still useful 
and comfortable. 


258 


MARIGOLD^S WINTER 


She clung as closely as ever to the little limp, 
drab shoulder-shawl Dick hated, but in another 
respect she seemed likely to fulfil his hopes. 

‘‘ Do you suppose,’’ he had asked Mrs. Mering- 
ton confidentially, ‘‘ when she gets settled, all 
nice and cosy, she will quit looking patient ? 

‘‘ I’ll try to stand the shawl, but I canH stand 
people that go around looking patient all the 
time ! ” 

Mamma Merington only laughed at him (as he 
loved to make her do), and advised him to try a 
little patience himself. But privately, she at once 
began on measures to bring at least one of his 
wishes to pass. 

For Mossy, royal preparations had been made. 
His warmly lined basket stood ready in a con- 
venient corner, and all the odd saucers that came 
out of the crates were set aside for his use. Mrs. 
Belden looked forward with real pleasure to the 
possession of him. 


THE WORKING OUT OF IT 259 


She even made Dick buy chicken-wire and 
fence around the fire-escape with it. Not that 
Mossy was at all the kind of cat who would be 
apt to lose his head and take a flying leap after 
doves or sparrows; but she feared lest he should 
fall asleep (which seemed quite probable) and 
roll off (which didn^t). 

At last, when the little home was quite ready, 
and Mrs. Belden had taken possession, in a state 
of half-incredulous joy. Mamma Merington drove 
out to the Pepperells’ for Grandpa Vance. She 
felt herself responsible for her old friend’s welfare, 
and was anxious that his removal should be made 
as quiet and comfortable as possible. 

Of course the little girls wanted dreadfully 
to go with her on this most important errand; 
but mamma thought it would be quite exciting 
enough for Grandpa Vance without them, and 
besides, she considered that with him, and her- 
self, and his precious manuscripts (which he would 


260 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


allow no one else to touch) and Mossy, the carriage 
would be quite full enough. 

Well, Mrs. Merington ! ” said Mrs. Pepperell, 
in fervent welcome, here you are, and I’m 
thankful jor it ! The old gentleman’s been sitting 
at that window with his hat on for the last hour, and 
if you hadn’t come pretty soon I believe he’d 
have had a conniption ! 

“ Now, I don’t know where you’re going to put 
all these books and things ; but he wouldn’t have 
’em go in the wagon with the furniture, not 
anyways in the world. And here’s Mossy, he^s 
going to take up considerable room.” 

He did, when Mrs. Pepperell had dumped him 
into the covered market basket, with a handful 
of catnip (thoughtfully provided by Mary and 
Marigold to soothe his feelings), poked down his 
surprised and indignant ears, and shut the cover 
on him. 

But when Grandpa had been comfortably en- 


THE WORKING OUT OF IT 261 


sconced in the carriage, and his possessions packed 
snugly in around him, Mrs. Pepperell bethought 
herself of one more thing to put in — and not a 
small thing either. 

‘‘ You don’t suppose, do you, that Mrs. Belden 
would like to have my Martha Washington gera- 
nium? It’s a dreadful handsome plant, — I’ve 
had it four winters, and I never saw its beat. 

I hate to leave it, but my land 1 it would be 
like trying to move a lilac bush. 

“ I’ll just take two or three slips off it, and then 
you can tell Mrs. Belden if she wants it she’s 
welcome to it.” 

Very well,” Mrs. Merington agreed, a little 
doubtfully however, as she glanced into the car- 
riage, — cut your slips, and then the plant 
and Mossy — ” 

‘‘ No,” said Mrs. Pepperell firmly, I don’t 
want no slips off Mossy ! Not but what they’d 
take root fast enough, I make no manner of doubt ; 


262 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


but when I keep a cat again I want a cat that 
can catch a mouse when it runs over him ! ” 

So Mrs. Pepperell and Demosthenes parted, 
with small regret on either side. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


THE OASIS 

Dick ran up the first two flights of stairs and 
walked the third, whistling with what was left 
of his breath, cheerfully but very softly, — for 
when one lives in a flat one cannot be too careful 
about keeping up pleasant relations with one’s 
neighbors above and below. 

The little household in the flat had been es- 
tablished now for some weeks, but coming home 
at night had not yet lost its novelty and charm; 
and Dick never put his latch-key in the door and 
stepped into the tiny hall without a thrill of 
satisfaction as he realized the difference between 
this and Mrs. Frost’s boarding-house. 

To-night, as he entered, he heard voices in the 


264 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


parlor; and he stepped quietly across to the 
half-open door to peep in. 

It was a pleasant, homelike little scene he looked 
in upon, and for a moment he stood silently 
enjoying it. 

It was different from the boarding-house, — 
it certainly was. 

The big beautiful lamp which Mamma Mering- 
ton had called her house-warming present ” 
made the whole room glow with its soft bright- 
ness. 

Near it, but with his armchair wheeled around 
to shade his eyes from the light. Grandpa Vance 
was taking one of his frequent little naps, his 
book lying open upon his knees. 

Beside the lamp sat Mrs. Belden, busy with the 
big monograms she was working on Mrs. Mering- 
ton’s new table linen, and seeming not at all 
incommoded by Mossy, whose fluffy, tawny bulk 
was stretched all across her lap. He was, to 


THE OASIS 


265 


all appearance, sound asleep, but his deep hum- 
ming purr filled the room. 

And beside Mrs. Belden, her chair drawn close 
as possible, was another person — a very small 
person in a pretty blue frock. She also was 
engaged in needlework, and bent over it in so 
intent a fashion that her long dark curls bothered 
her by dropping over her shoulders and getting 
in her way. 

Mary was learning to make buttonholes, and 
it was necessary to sit close, for she needed her 
teacher’s attention every other minute. 

Raising her head to push back the troublesome 
curls, she caught sight of Dick in the doorway, 
and sprang up to meet him at the same moment 
that he spoke. 

Hello, this looks festive,” he said. “ We’ve 
got company, haven’t we. Aunt Emily?” 

Mary pulled his head down for a kiss, and 
then danced before him, clasping the button- 


266 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


holes to her breast, while he pulled off his over- 
coat. 

Yes, we are company,” she said gleefully; 
“ and we are going to stay to supper, and the 
carriage is not to come till half-past seven, just 
think ! ” 

‘‘ But I don’t see ‘ we,’ ” Dick objected, trying 
to look puzzled. “Who else is here? ” 

“ She is coming in a minute,” Mary reassured 
him. “ She just ran out to look at her — ” 

“ Sh ! ” said Marigold, appearing suddenly 
at the door of the kitchen. “ You mustn’t tell, 
— he is to guess. What do you s’pose you are 
going to have for supper? ” 

Marigold’s arms were bare to her dimpled 
elbows; she wore Mrs. Belden’s morning apron 
of checked gingham, moving warily to avoid 
tripping on it, and on the exact tip of her little 
nose was a dab of flour. 

But even without the very plain hint that flour 


THE OASIS 


267 


gave him, it did seem as if Dick might have hit 
nearer the mark in his guesses than he did, for 
he knew very well that Marigold’s newest and 
proudest accomplishment was the making of Mrs. 
Belden’s puffy, melting “ cream biscuit.” 

But Dick didn’t guess anywhere near that, so 
he had to wait until supper time to find out. 

Presently Mrs. Belden laid aside her work and 
went to make the tea. 

Marigold followed her, filled with anxious 
responsibility. The oven door was heard to open 
and close, very gently, and she rushed back 
with the ecstatic announcement that ‘‘ they were 
done just lovely! ” so everybody went out to sup- 
per. 

It was as pretty and cosy a dining-room as heart 
could wish. The kitchen half of the floor was 
bare, and scrubbed snowy clean, but under the 
dining-table it was covered with a large square 
from a former dining-room carpet, — which made 


268 


MARIGOLD^S WINTER 


a nice distinction between the kitchen half and 
the dining half of the room. 

In the south window bloomed the beautiful 
great Lady Washington geranium (the precious 
pink azalea was in the parlor). 

Mrs. Belden’s old-fashioned silver made the 
table bright, and on the stove the shining tea-kettle 
looked as handsome as though it too were made 
of solid silver, while its gentle purring made it 
seem as much one of the family as Mossy himself. 

Mossy sat on the floor close beside the table, — 
very erect, his head a little on one side, and 
purring his loudest. 

He certainly was, as Mrs. Pepperell had called 
him, a badly spoiled cat, for he ate as many 
oysters as he could get, hooking them daintily 
off the fork with a single claw. Mossy loved 
escalloped oysters. 

So did Dick. Dick had his dinners down- town 
at noon, but Mrs. Belden always had some nice 


THE OASIS 


269 


little hot dish for supper, because she said warm 
meals were wholesomer for boys. 

‘‘ Grampavance ’’ ate his supper in gentle, 
abstracted serenity. Mrs. Belden watched over 
him, and Dick, and the children, with the same 
motherly care for all; the little girls chattered 
happily, and Dick listened and laughed. 

It was all very peaceful and cosy. 

When supper was over Dick leaned back in his 
chair, gently rubbing the little yellow head at his 
side, and smiled across the table at Mrs. Belden. 

“ This is a big improvement on old times, 
isn’t it. Aunt Emily?” he said. “I declare, I 
feel dizzy yet, at the suddenness of it all. To get 
a home and an aunt and a grandfather, all at one 
stroke, this way, is like one of the twins’ ^ s’poses.’ 
This little flat is a sort of oasis, in a desert of 
boarding-houses.” 

Mary pricked her ears at the familiar word. 
‘‘ A little green spot ? ” she asked, remembering. 


270 


MARIGOLD^S WINTER 


Precisely/’ Dick answered smiling, remem- 
bering too. ‘‘ A little green spot, — with springs, 
and camels, and date-palms and all ! ” 

Mary wrinkled her eyebrows in a puzzled way. 
She saw it was a joke, but she didn’t quite see 
the point. 

Then another sentence of Dick’s returned to 
her memory, — that ‘‘they were nice pleasant 
little spots, and everybody liked them ; ” so she 
rested content with that, passing over the part that 
puzzled her as “ grown-up funning,” which she 
often found perplexing. 

After supper the children made a frolic of 
helping Aunt Emily do the dishes, while Grandpa 
Vance returned to his big heavy book and Dick 
to the evening paper; but instead of reading 
he spent half the time listening and the other 
half thinking, with a reflective smile on his lips. 
“ And all owing to their kind little hearts and bright 
little wits ! ” he said half aloud, at last. 



“ THE CHILDREN LISTENED, THEIR WIDE EYES FIXED ON 
HIS FACE, BUT SEEING ONLY THE BURNING DESERT.” 




THE OASIS 


271 


Then the children came romping in, proclaiming 
that their work was all done, and there was just 
time for a story before it was time to go home. 

They put him in the middle of the comfortable 
old sofa and settled themselves on either side of 
him, and Mary decided (Marigold having chosen 
last time) that the story was to be ‘‘ about a real 
oasis.’’ 

For a moment the story-teller was baffled. 
His usual way of telling stories was to give them 
a very short and simple account of some book he 
himself had read and enjoyed, and at first he 
could recall no oasis. 

But presently an inspiration came, and he 
began on ‘‘The Talisman;” and for the next 
half-hour the children listened in eager silence, 
their wide eyes fixed on his face, but seeing only 
the burning desert and the terrible Dead Sea, 
the fountain under its sheltering palms, the 
splendid horses, and mail-clad knights, and the 


272 


MARIGOLD'S WINTER 


clustering tents and banners of the Crusaders’ 
camp. 

Grandpa Vance was absorbed in other stories of 
the past; Mossy dreamed and purred; and Mrs. 
Belden sat and sewed beside the lamp, in the 
smooth white apron which she always wore in 
the evening, — partly because she was brought up 
that way, and partly because Mossy would sit in her 
lap, whether she wished it or not. He wished it, 
and that was enough. 

Mrs. Belden also wore a shoulder-shawl — 
though often, nowadays, in the warm little house 
it was laid aside. 

But the shawl was not drab now, — Mamma 
Merington’s own hands had made it, and it was 
of the loveliest seashell pink, as ruffly and dainty 
as a shawl could possibly be. 

It is hard to say whether Mrs. Belden or Dick 
had felt more grateful for that gift. 

Dick’s other wish had come true also, for 


THE OASIS 


273 


“ Aunt Emily ” no longer went around looking 
patient.’’ At least, if she did, it was patience of 
the peaceful, contented, not of the hopeless kind. 

At twenty minutes past seven exactly, the 
children began regretfully to make ready for the 
carriage, — their thoughts and tongues busy all 
the while with the wonderful story. 

‘‘ Did you ever think,” said Dick presently, 
as he struggled with the buttons of Mary’s cloak 
while Aunt Emily fastened Marigold’s, “ what 
fun it would be to make an oasis? — to dig the 
well and plant the trees, so tired, thirsty people 
could stop and drink and rest? ” 

“ Oh-ee, yes,” cried Mary, her eyes lighting 
up at once with this new and delightful suggestion 
of s’posing. 

And we’d put tents under the trees, to be all 
ready when the tired people came, — and we could 
plant grass for the camels to eat — ” 

And flowers, to make it pretty,” Marigold 


274 


MARIGOLD’S WINTER 


chimed in. “ What kind of flowers would grow 
in the desert, Dick? ” 

Dick pondered, and shook his head. You 
have stumped me now,” he said. 

And then, to their surprise and pleasure, quiet 
Aunt Emily came to the rescue with a verse from 
dear old Lalla Rookh.” 

“ Our rocks are rough, but smiling there 
The acacia waves her yellow hair, 

Lonely and sweet, nor loved the less, 

For flowering in a wilderness.” 

The children joyfully accepted the Arab 
maid’s ” suggestion, and an enclosing circle of 
blossoming shrubbery was immediately added 
to the grove of palms. And then the carriage came. 

All the way home they planned their garden 
in the wilderness, and when at bedtime they 
described it to mamma, it was a lovely spot indeed. 

They went on s’posing until mamma kissed 
them good night, and tucked them in and bade 


THE OASIS 


275 


them go to sleep. And Mary’s last word before 
the s’posing turned into dreams was a wistful 
murmur : Oh, wouldn’t it be nice if we really 

could do such lovely things for people ! Do you 
s’pose children ever can? ” 





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